


Two As One

by smittenbritain



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - Prison, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-21 13:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14286375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smittenbritain/pseuds/smittenbritain
Summary: Step one: chisel.Step two: sheets.Step three: wrench.Step four:escape.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is _heavily_ inspired by the fantastic game 'A Way Out'. I've played it so many times since it came out and I desperately wanted to do a Battle Buddies version of it. 
> 
> However, the fic does contain big spoilers for it, so if you're intending on playing/watching the game then I highly recommend you do so first. It does the concept much more justice than I can in words alone. I recommend seeing it first anyway if you're interested in it!

The first time Jeremy saw Ryan, he was coming in off the prison bus.

There was always a commotion when new inmates arrived. If he happened to be in the training yard at the time, Jeremy could lean up against the chainlink fence and watch the bus pull in, check out the new prisoners that would be joining them before they even set foot inside. Jeremy wasn’t one to concern himself with politics behind bars - he’d proven himself strong enough to be left alone, though he did have a few good contacts in here - so while he wasn’t looking to exactly recruit anyone, it was still interesting to see the new blood.

He could pick out the troublemakers, the fighters, the more reserved ones. It was an opportunity to see who might be a problem for him, and who would leave him alone.

There were only a handful of guys this time; Jeremy counted five total. Some glared up at the yard, making rude gestures and swearing as they were jeered at. Others ignored the commotion completely, keeping their heads down. The one at the back just walked right in without looking away from the entrance, his features completely neutral.

Smart move, Jeremy thought.

Curious, he followed. He could only see so much as he headed inside, passing through a pat down and waiting to be let into the cell block, but he could catch glimpses of them all as they headed in for their showers. Once he was past, though, his cell door was shut behind him, but he could still see them coming; Jeremy leaned up against it, peering down the hallway towards the spiral stairs that all new inmates came up.

One by one, the group separated. A couple stayed on the bottom floor. Two more went higher up the stairs to cells above.

The guy who had been last off the bus was placed in the cell next to him. Trying to be subtle, Jeremy turned a little to keep him in his eyesight for as long as possible.

Unfortunately, he only caught a quick glimpse, but it was enough. He noticed that this guy was taller than him and calmer than the other new arrivals. He had the beginnings of a beard, no more than just past stubble for now. While he looked a little softer around the edges, there was some attractive definition to his bare arms as he was pushed, still naked from his shower, into his cell.

This guy seemed unassuming, but Jeremy knew better than to judge a book by its cover. There would be a reason for his impassivity. He would be one to watch.

For now, Jeremy sat down at his desk, and his gaze drifted towards the window opposite his cell block. From here, Jeremy could see the tops of the trees.

* * *

His first real meeting with Ryan didn’t come until the second day. Jeremy had, admittedly, almost forgotten about him entirely until they were both out in the yard.

It was too damn hot to be outside really, but working out was the one option that would do Jeremy some good. He didn’t quite have the patience to sit and read in his cell, not when he could be doing this or making connections. There was always something he could be doing, some small effort he could make to be ready to run at a moment’s notice. As much as he enjoyed a good book, it wouldn’t help him.

Because one thing was for sure: Jeremy was going to escape. There was nothing that would stop him.

It was just a matter of timing and patience; Jeremy had plenty of the former, and very little of the latter. And then there was the fact that he didn’t have any tools to work with yet, but he still had ideas - Jeremy just needed the chance to put them into action.

As he idly scanned the yard, leaning back against the fence with his arms folded to bask in the sun for a moment, an inmate came up to him. “Dooley,” the guy said, nodding at him in greeting.

Jeremy was instantly on his guard; he didn’t recognise this guy, not by name, though he knew him vaguely by face. “What’s up?”

He gestured towards the basketball court. There were a few men milling about down there, but nobody was playing. Evidently, the guards had decided to take the ball again. “Someone wants to talk to you down there.”

Squinting, Jeremy looked again at the basketball court. He couldn’t pick out any familiar faces. “Who?”

The inmate could only shrug and back away. “I don’t know, man. I’m just the messenger.”

“Thanks.” Jeremy bit back a scoff - it wasn’t a very helpful message, but he was admittedly too curious to question it too deeply.

Unfolding his arms, Jeremy pushed off from the fence and wandered over, casting wary glances across the yard. He admittedly didn’t have a great feeling about this, and that sense of foreboding only increased as he made his way down the steps and through the gate. Jeremy wasn’t in the practice of backing out of something once he’d made a decision, though, so he continued on rather than retreat to his cell.

Immediately, his arms were seized.

He yanked hard to try and pull free, but evidently these two were equally as bored and had turned that frustration into working out; they dragged him forwards with ease. There was no way that Jeremy could pull himself free here, even when he struggled and squirmed to throw them off. He couldn’t rely on the guards for help either, not until it got bloody.

Jeremy was entirely on his own.

At the gate opposite, there was already a crowd of men peering over each others’ shoulders and shoving to get a better view. Jeremy’s stomach lurched - this had been a bad idea after all, he should’ve ignored the summons and headed back inside instead of falling for such a stupid trick. Now he was just going to be pulled into the limelight and targeted, when all he wanted to do was stand back and observe. _Shit._

“Let me go,” he hissed, tugging hard on his captors’ hands again. They just ignored him.

At first, he hadn’t noticed the man lingering in the corner of the basketball court, but now he prowled forwards with a smug grin. He was another inmate that Jeremy didn’t know by name, though he absolutely knew him by face; he was a great, hulking brute of a man, thick with muscle and constantly sneering. He was a bully through and through, always pushing prisoners and guards alike for more than they were willing to give.

Nobody liked him, aside from those that used him for protection - though Jeremy was willing to bet that it was actually fear. Jeremy himself had had a few run-ins with this guy in the past, but he was so sure he’d been under the radar enough to avoid drawing attention to himself.

“There you are, Dooley,” he chuckled, breathing the words with relish once he was close enough. Jeremy heard the loud, distinct clicks as he cracked his knuckles.

With no warning, he sunk his fist into Jeremy’s gut. Jeremy’s breath rushed out of his lungs in a quick exhale as he hunched over, now relying on the men either side of him to hold him upright. Determined not to look weak, though, he quickly found his footing again, forcing himself upright to glare at the thug in front of him.

“The fuck do you want?” he spat.

“Me?” Gesturing at himself, the man laughed. There was a swagger in the way he held himself that made Jeremy ache to take him on, one on one, even though it would be a foolish idea. “Nothing. It’s not about what I want. It’s about what _Martin_ wants.”

His abdomen still ached, but Jeremy ignored it as rage suddenly burst to life in his chest. He tried to rush forwards, only to be held back again. “That asshole, he’s on the outside,” he growled. “Why does he have to do with this?”

“He might not be here,” the man said, smirk widening, “but he’s still paying me good. _Especially_ to deal with you.”

Before Jeremy could come up with some kind of reply - cocky or scathing, he wasn’t sure; he was too furious to be much of a smartass right now - he took another solid hit. This time, the guy’s knuckles smacked his cheek and sent him reeling with a grunt, his head spinning from the force of it. Jeremy spat blood onto the ground before he straightened up again; the inside of his cheek was tender, but adrenaline kept the pain at bay. He might not be able to fight back, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to dissolve into a quivering mess.

Gritting his teeth, Jeremy braced himself for the third hit - but it never came.

There was a commotion from the crowd, laughter and jeering kicking up as they forced someone into the ring: it was Jeremy’s new neighbour, his blue eyes wide and startled as he was shoved into the ringleader.

Jeremy didn’t wait. The moment the leader looked away, confused, Jeremy used everyone’s surprise to his advantage; he ripped his arm free, shoved the man on his right, and then turned on his heel to jab the one on his left in the gut. It was still three against one and he was already injured, but now he had the freedom to fight.

It was exhilarating.

He knew this. It was familiar and it got his blood pumping, the adrenaline giving him the burst of energy he needed. Despite the throbbing of his cheek, his nerves were  _singing,_ his body alight with the thrill of a good fistfight. Before, he’d been frustrated that he was being held back - now, he was ready, more than prepared to take down as many as he could with him. All around him were the cheers and cries of people egging them all on, and underneath that were the grunts of exertion as his neighbour threw himself into this, too.

Jeremy saw him as he caught the ringleader to throw him back against the fence; his neighbour was flushed, teeth bared as he ducked and weaved between swings, but there was a light in his eyes that struck a familiar chord.

The moment was gone before Jeremy could linger over it.

He was lost again in the rhythm of the fight, turning and dodging and punching, rolling to the side when he was shoved to the ground. One of the others was on the ground already, groaning as he laid there recovering, but Jeremy’s neighbour was still on his feet, smoothly moving around the remaining one. It was impressive, Jeremy had to admit, and he would have stopped to watch more if he wasn’t busy tackling the leader into the bleachers.

His ally was forgotten for a brief moment as Jeremy focused, gritting his teeth and swinging hard. He only managed a couple of good punches before he was shoved away, stumbling to find his footing.

Unsurprisingly, given the close quarters, he knocked into someone.

He was back to back with his blue eyed neighbour.

They only exchanged a quick, startled look before they were off again, pushing off of each other to launch themselves at their foes. When his temporary friend gave a wordless cry of warning, Jeremy turned, and he neatly thumped the guy that was thrown over to his side of the court, and then smoothly returned to grappling with the one remaining inmate: the leader.

Just as Jeremy yanked him down to headbutt him, there came the sharp sound of the guards’ whistles. He let the guy stumble backwards, and Jeremy straightened up, breathing hard as he glanced over at his neighbour.

Like him, he was panting, shoulders heaving as he sucked in deep lungfuls of air. While he’d seemed to hold his own, he had his fair share of cuts and bruises; there were a few littered across his face, and he placed a tentative hand on his side, wincing as he touched it. Jeremy had the heart to feel a little sorry for him as he gathered himself, but he didn’t intend on staying long; he wasn’t here to make friends.

Guards poured onto the court, forcing the fallen prisoners to their feet and threatening them all with solitary confinement if they started fighting again. The ringleader growled a warning at Jeremy as he was hauled out by a guard. Jeremy ignored them all.

He passed by his neighbour without a word, leaving the opposite way he’d come in.

* * *

Dinner was a different, much more dangerous affair.

While only the most trusted inmates had access to the knives and other kitchenware, the only thing stopping people from getting to them was a counter. Jeremy had seen his fair share of scraps where people had taken advantage of that and jumped over it, but it had never changed.

It was an unavoidable part of the day, though. Still aching, Jeremy pushed past a couple of talking inmates so he could join the queue. The food might be shit, but he was hungry.

Chatter filled the canteen, coupled with the clinking of spoons against the plastic trays. While it wasn’t exactly rowdy, it was loud enough to be somewhat annoying at times; Jeremy tuned it out as he stepped up to receive his food.

As always, it wasn’t much, and it definitely didn’t look nice. It was usually just cooked enough not to make the inmates sick, and the cup of water to go with it was always uncomfortably lukewarm. One day of this food had been enough to make him long for something heartier - burgers and steaks were always the first thing to come to mind - and now, six months into his eight year sentence, Jeremy was dying for it. He wrinkled his nose at the offering as he tray was handed over to him, resigning himself to another tasteless meal.

“Hey, Dooley!”

There was a clatter as another inmate was shoved aside, his tray sent skidding across the floor as he tripped over with it, and when Jeremy turned he suddenly found himself shoved backwards over the counter.

The ringleader from before had him pinned to it, the sharpened end of a toothbrush hovering over his heart.

He yelped as he grabbed the man by the arms, desperate to force the makeshift weapon away. Miraculously, Jeremy only had to strain for a moment before someone else ripped him away, giving him the chance to leap over the counter and into the kitchen in search of something to fight back with. There was no time to thank his rescuer, because while the toothbrush had been lost in the chaos, the ringleader had followed him and was now pointing a knife directly at him.

Another was thrown across the space of the tiny kitchen to his companion - who slashed it towards the same taller, blue eyed man from before.

Jeremy stared. Why the fuck was he so determined to help him?

“What the-” Jeremy cut himself off as the knife passed dangerously close to his face, and he took a quick step backwards. There were more goons behind their leader, smirking and flexing. He - they - were thoroughly outnumbered.

Grimacing, Jeremy started backing up further into the kitchen. Maybe he’d get lucky and find something he could fight back with, but for now, he grabbed abandoned trays to toss towards them, hoping it might slow them down for even a second. They only bounced off of their torsos, but the first few were enough to surprise them and make them laugh, buying Jeremy precious time to move further back.

He curved around the kitchen, moving further into the corner even though he knew it was only going to trap him against a wall. The actual exit was somewhere behind him, but Jeremy had never been on food duty; he didn’t know the kitchen well enough to guess, and he didn’t dare look away from his opponents right now. On his left, Tall Guy was mirroring him, his frown deepening as they were gradually forced into the corner.

It turned out that they did find the doorway, just not as smoothly as Jeremy had hoped. The leader lunged, seizing Jeremy and shoving him backwards with a knife at his throat, and he found himself toppling backwards when his feet went out from under him. Tall Guy was pushed through too, and then the men were on them, and Jeremy lost him again in the desperate, almost feral fight he found himself in. He took sharp kicks and punches, but Jeremy was determined not to go down without leaving at least a few bruises in his wake.

As he kicked someone’s legs out from under them, sending the man tumbling to the hard concrete floor with a yelp, Jeremy saw a wide grin and the glint of a blade looming over him. His heart almost stopped in his chest at the sight.

He’d never been so grateful to hear the shrill guards’ whistles.

Most of the inmates stopped immediately. Jeremy was among them, on his back and hissing out a pained breath between his teeth as he carefully felt his ribs; he’d definitely taken a firm kick there, but nothing felt broken. Still, he ached, and he slumped back against the wall behind him with a barely stifled groan. The ringleader didn’t stop fighting, but Jeremy didn’t pay attention - the pain was starting to grow, throbbing and aching deep in his muscles, and it was a fight just to stay conscious enough to explain himself. He was pretty sure he heard a guard go down with a yell.

As he glanced across the room, hoping for something to cling onto, a pair of blue eyes caught his, and Jeremy felt that sharp stab of familiarity again. When the moment passed, Tall Guy dropped back onto his elbows with a huff, closing his eyes as he caught his breath.

His persistence was just too weird to ignore at this point, but now wasn’t the time to ask questions. Soon, though, Jeremy would make time.

* * *

That time came sooner than Jeremy really expected. Unsurprisingly, they were the worst off - scraped, bruised, limping a little - so they were escorted to the infirmary. Everyone else that had been involved was either sent back to their cells or, in the case of the leader, locked up in solitary for the attack on the guard. It meant that he and his neighbour would be alone.

And it was the perfect opportunity to get a feel for him.

Jeremy didn’t trust people easily in general, let alone in prison. He’d been burned too many times on the outside - and pretty severely in the case of Martin. So, naturally, the idea of someone taking enough interest in him to fight by his side twice in one day was something to be suspicious of.

Before he could even think about talking to his neighbour, something caught his eye - something that could potentially, after six long months, give him his way out.

In the infirmary, the wall behind the beds was made up of windows. Jeremy assumed it was so the guards could keep an eye on them while they rested, but it had the advantage of letting him see into _their_ room, too. Someone was working on something in there - it was in the corner, out of Jeremy’s sight - but there was a toolbox on the ground with various wrenches and screwdrivers scattered around it.

And, right there on the table, there was a chisel.

As Jeremy settled back on his bed, he waited and watched the nurse leave through the frosted glass opposite him; she walked down the hallway and out of sight, and then, finally, Jeremy looked right.

The bed immediately next to him was empty. In the one next to it, on his back with his eyes closed, was his mysterious friend. He glanced just once more at the window, and when he was sure that the nurse was out of the way, Jeremy propped himself up on an elbow and leaned towards the right. “Hey,” he hissed. It took a long few moments for him to get a response, but when his neighbour finally looked over, he added, “I’m Jeremy.”

The man blinked at him. He seemed quietly surprised to even be acknowledged. “Ryan.”

Finally, he could put a name to the face. Jeremy nodded to himself, rolling it around in his head. _Ryan._ “Well, uh, thanks for helping out back there, Ryan. You saved my ass.”

Ryan huffed out a tired chuckle. “It’s fine. I wasn’t gonna stand back and watch you get shanked.”

“I appreciate it,” Jeremy laughed quietly. “I’d probably be dead right now if you hadn’t stepped in. He had a fuckin’ toothbrush shiv to my chest until you dragged him off.”

“Creative,” Ryan admitted, tilting his head. “What’s his problem with you anyway?”

Jeremy wiggled his hand and brushed the question aside. “Long story,” he said simply. Maybe he’d tell it one day - hopefully, he wouldn’t have to sit down and do it, though. Ideally, he’d be gone and never have to face any of this ever again. “Listen, you’ve done a lot for me already, but can you help me out one more time? I need to get something.”

He waited with baited breath as Ryan shot him a suspicious look. “What is it?”

“Nothing, it’s easy, I promise.” Jeremy licked his lips as he forced himself upright on his aching arms. “I just need you to watch my back while I get something.”

Ryan held his gaze for a long moment. The guy was practically unreadable; there was a slight frown on his face, but Jeremy had no idea what it meant. He’d never been good at sitting still and being patient anyway, too ready for action to pay attention to detail, and he wasn’t about to start trying now.

“Sorry,” Ryan said, shrugging a shoulder and turning away. “I’m not interested.”

Of course, everyone in prison wanted something in return. Jeremy had been foolish to think even Ryan would help him out without being promised anything first. He didn’t exactly have anything to trade anyway, not anything that he was willing to give.

So Jeremy sat up and threw his hands in the air. “Fuck it,” he said, swinging his legs to the ground. “I’ll do it myself-”

“Wait!” Ryan hissed. When Jeremy paused, turning with raised eyebrows, Ryan said, “You can’t just walk out of here!”

“Of course I can,” Jeremy replied calmly.

“They’ll catch us! And we’ll both get in trouble!”

“Not if you help me.”

Ryan growled wordlessly, frustrated. “Fine, I’ll help you. But if you get caught, you’re on your own.”

Jeremy shot him a grin. “That’s fair. Just keep an eye out for me, okay?” Carefully, he laid back in his bed again, and he shifted his focus to the door. “You’d better call the nurse and get her out of the way first. She’s down the hall.”

“Got it.”

Ryan pulled himself a little more upright in his bed - Jeremy did feel a twinge of sympathy when he winced; he’d taken a few hits for him today - and he pressed the buzzer next to him. Out in the corridor, a bell rang, and the nurse immediately began making her way back towards them. It was hard to appear casual when Jeremy was practically vibrating with the need to act, but the moment she passed him to attend to Ryan, he slipped out of bed, fell into a crouch, and crept out of the room.

Naturally, there was a prison guard further down the hallway; it was a little surprising that there was only one, but Jeremy would have been more shocked if there hadn’t been any present at all. The guard sat behind his desk, sipping his freshly brewed coffee, unfortunately facing the way Jeremy needed to go.

Silently, he cursed, and he backed up until he could catch Ryan’s eye through the window next to his bed. The nurse seemed to have moved to the sink, so Jeremy straightened up enough that Ryan could see him. Ignoring the frustrated warning written all over Ryan’s face, he gestured at the window behind him to hopefully indicate what he wanted. Rather than try to interpret Jeremy’s complicated motions, though, Ryan just glanced behind himself, and then settled down in his bed again with a short nod.

As Jeremy moved back into position, there was a sharp knock on the glass and a startled yelp. When he peeked around the corner, Jeremy had to bite back a laugh: the guard had spilled his coffee over his lap in his surprise, and now he was turned away, muttering to himself as he mopped it up.

From there, it was simple. Jeremy darted past, snatched the chisel from the table, and then rushed back past the guard, down the hallway, and flung himself into his bed. Just before he slipped under the covers, he tucked the chisel under the waistband of his pants, and he feigned sleep when the nurse came back to check on him.

As she left, Jeremy shot Ryan a grin. Ryan simply nodded, his expression unreadable once again.

* * *

It wasn’t hard to get the chisel somewhere safe. After they were given the all clear the next day, they were escorted back to their cells - but on the way, Jeremy spotted an open window that led out to the roof. All he had to do was linger, act like he was taking in the fresh air, and then he leaned through just enough that he could plant the chisel on the roof below. Even when a guard saw him hanging back, he only told Jeremy to get a move on.

Jeremy knew that he was fucked if he was caught. There would be no explaining away his actions here - it was do or die, probably quite literally.

One thing he didn’t account for was Ryan’s curiosity.

He’d assumed that Ryan didn’t want anything to do with him. Sure, the guy had been poking his nose into his business and had helped him out of a couple rough spots, but Ryan had made it pretty clear that he wasn’t the friendly type, so Jeremy wasn’t expecting anything more from him.

It was surprising then to see him approach out in the yard, this time without a threat in sight. Jeremy kept his expression neutral as Ryan took a seat near him on a bench, and for once he decided to be patient and let Ryan come to him first.

“So,” he said eventually, “What’s your plan?”

“Excuse me?”

Jeremy eyed Ryan warily, but still couldn’t find anything that would give his intentions away. Ryan just faced forwards, looking almost like he was just enjoying the patch of sunlight they were sat in. If it hadn’t been for the fresh bruises and cuts on Ryan’s face, he would have seemed almost peaceful.

Jeremy’s reply finally drew a smile out of Ryan. It wasn’t much - just a tiny quirk of the corner of his mouth - but it was a smile. “I know what you’re up to. Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jeremy snorted. He looked away again. _Play it cool, Dooley._ It was safer to play dumb than to say anything and give Ryan ammunition. He’d helped, but anyone could be bought, and there was no guarantee that Ryan wasn’t a snitch.

“Come on,” Ryan scoffed. The tone of his voice made Jeremy bristle, and he shot a look at him, lips thinned. “You owe me, Jeremy.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to tell you anything I’m doing - which I’m not,” he added, raising a hand as if to ward off any questions before they could leave Ryan’s lips. He slid off of the bench, determined to slip away before he got himself tangled up here. “I appreciate your help, but we’re not friends, buddy.”

Before he could get too far, Ryan stood and caught his wrist.

It took a monumental effort to not just swing at Ryan.

But Jeremy reined himself in, and Ryan used the grip to pull him in. “I’m sure you have your reasons to get out of here,” he murmured, “but I do, too.”

“Not my problem,” Jeremy growled.

“I’m offering help,” Ryan hissed. “You can’t do this alone. You needed my help back in the infirmary. You’re not gonna get far without someone to watch your back.”

Jeremy yanked his arm free and glared at him; Ryan half raised his hands in surrender and took a step back. “I can handle myself,” he said. “Thanks for the help. I’ll find you a packet of smokes or something, whatever your poison is. But I can look after myself just fine.”

He turned on his heel, ready to stalk away. Ryan was too curious, too nosy. Jeremy could tell that associating with him would only get him into trouble, one way or another. Things were difficult enough without someone that risky on his side. It was better to just nip that in the bud and walk away.

So he did.

And then Ryan called out again.

“What about Martin?”

Jeremy froze. His shoulders hunched as the mere sound of that name made his stomach twist with fury; what he wouldn’t give to wring the guy’s throat. Lying was one thing - Jeremy had done plenty of it himself - but betrayal? Stabbing a friend in the back? That was unforgivable, and Martin was a dead man walking as far as Jeremy was concerned.

Swallowing hard, he shifted to face Ryan again. “What do you know about Martin? Who told you?”

Ryan merely shrugged. His features were as infuriatingly neutral as they always were. “The walls are thin, but let’s just say that we’ve got a common goal here. I want him dead just as much as you do.”

It only took two quick strides before Jeremy was in front of Ryan again. He trembled with barely restrained anger, and it fuelled him through any insecurity he might’ve felt about squaring up to the taller man. “You don’t know _anything_ about me.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Ryan said simply, seemingly unaffected by Jeremy’s proximity. As he spoke, though, Jeremy saw a similar kind of fury pressing through the cracks in Ryan’s armour.  “But just know that Martin killed someone I care about. Whether you’re involved or not, I’m going after him. I’m pretty sure our chances would be better if we worked together, though.”

Something animal inside Jeremy purred as he realised that Martin had more than just one enemy.

The strength of his anger didn’t fade, but Jeremy felt that he’d controlled it; it was on a leash for now, held back as it snapped and snarled in his chest, waiting for the right moment to be unleashed. As wary as he was of Ryan, Jeremy could see now that there was a quiet promise of loyalty here. Ryan wouldn’t rat him out the first chance he got - not when they had a common enemy.

“Alright,” he said eventually, taking a step back. “But it’s my plan, and I decide what happens. You got it?”

Ryan smiled. Jeremy could almost feel the depth of Ryan’s satisfaction in it. It wasn’t smug - instead, it was like being promised a damn good meal after a period of starvation. Ryan was just as hungry for revenge as he was.

“Sure,” he said, offering Jeremy a nod. “Whatever you say.”

* * *

Getting the materials they needed had to be spread over the course of several days. First and foremost, they needed to retrieve the chisel from the roof, and there was only one way that they could get up there: work.

Jeremy might have kept to himself for his six months in prison, but he had contacts. All it took was a promise of some cigarettes, and he and Ryan found themselves up on the rooftops, neatly sliding in with the other workers. From there, it was a much simpler case of distracting a guard so he could boost Ryan up onto the scaffolding, and then Jeremy simply had to wait.

It was an exercise in trust too, but Jeremy was relieved to find Ryan sneaking out of the storeroom door a good ten minutes later. Then it was just a matter of smuggling the chisel back to their cells, which was easy enough with the help of Jeremy’s friend.

Step one: chisel.

It hadn’t taken Jeremy long initially to figure out how weak the wall was behind the toilets in their cells, but tonight he finally had the tool to do something about it. Ryan kept watch while Jeremy hacked away at the wall behind it, and soon enough he’d broken through enough to kick out the grate on the other side. They swapped so Ryan could do the same while Jeremy casually leaned up against the bars of his cell, chatting with any guard that came too close so Ryan could quickly cover his tracks. They were a surprisingly good team, he realised.

There was a cramped space behind their cells, and crawling along it led them to an long abandoned elevator shaft. It certainly hadn’t been in use since Jeremy had arrived, so it was a surefire way of easily going down several floors without being noticed. Just looking down made Jeremy feel dizzy, but he gritted his teeth and told Ryan what was next.

Step two: sheets.

There was a little window that just peeked through into that back area behind the cell block - it was, quite possibly, the easiest way to smuggle the materials they needed to navigate the elevator shaft. Once again, Jeremy had to call on his contact, though this time it was to get them into the laundry room for a shift.

Getting a laundry cart was easy enough. Ryan talked to the inmate watching over them, persuading him with a little bit of money towards his next pack of smokes, and then it was a simple case of filling it with enough sheets to hide a fully grown man. Jeremy elected to climb in and hide underneath them, even though he spent half the time on the way to the right room muttering about the stench. He fell silent when Ryan gently kicked the cart, and he stayed as still as he possibly could as a guard gave the inside a cursory look.

Miraculously, it worked; the guards wheeled Jeremy around to the back, and once they walked away he had free reign to stuff the stolen sheets through the little gap near the ceiling. He could only hope that they’d grabbed enough that they’d be able to climb down safely. Jeremy _really_ didn’t want to drop.

They tried again later that night, and Jeremy could have cried when he realised that he’d have to climb up their makeshift rope again; after making their way through literal shit - the way they dropped through left them in the sewers - they realised they’d need yet another tool to get any further. High above, there was a grate locked in place, preventing them from sneaking outside.

Step three: wrench.

Obtaining a wrench was even easier than any other part. Surprisingly, in the workshop the guards were even more relaxed; there was just one to hand out and receive tools, and another leaning against the wall by the metal detector at the exit.

It only took Jeremy a few moments to grab what he needed and hide it down his pants. Ryan wandered through the metal detector ahead of him, nodding politely to the guard as he stepped past, and then he promptly disappeared through a door on the left rather than head right to the cells. Jeremy licked his lips, quietly nervous. He knew there were a couple of different ways to go about this, but Ryan vanishing through a door that read _Staff Only_ in big bold letters wasn’t one he’d had in mind.

Still, Jeremy lingered in the workshop, pretending to fix his attention on hammering, until Ryan came back into view and gestured for him to come through. Jeremy almost missed the rhythm of his hammering in pure confusion until Ryan jerked his chin up towards the metal detector.

The light above it had gone out. It was deactivated.

Jeremy suppressed his grin as he set the hammer down and slipped through to join Ryan. It was easy enough to get back to their cells from there, and Jeremy hid the wrench through the gap in his wall, safely stowing it for later.

Now all they needed was the right timing.

* * *

A storm seemed perfect. It’d give them plenty of cover, even though they’d end up soaked and freezing on the run. They’d be harder to find, harder to track, and that was what Jeremy wanted above all else: a clean escape.

He told Ryan his plan in the cafeteria. Ryan gave him a simple, familiar nod.

Jeremy had never tried so hard in his life to appear calm and collected. He was used to showing his energy, either by being boisterous or being fighty, but he couldn’t afford to end up in solitary confinement tonight. If they missed this window of opportunity, there was no telling how long it would be until another storm rolled in, and with every passing day there was a higher risk that their escape route would be discovered in a cell shakedown. They couldn’t afford to delay.

Once the lights went out, Jeremy stayed still in his bed for a few minutes longer. He listened to the pounding of his heart, the howling winds outside, the sharp clicks of the guards’ shoes as they patrolled.

There was a quiet knock against the wall. “Jeremy?” Ryan hissed.

Jeremy swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

“Ready?”

He breathed out a quiet laugh. “More than ready.”

Step four: _escape._

Together, they slipped through the space behind the toilets. They retraced their steps down the elevator shaft, through the sewers, back _up_ again to reach the sealed grate. Perched on a cramped ledge underneath it, they carefully opened it screw by screw, and then heaved it over so they had enough space to climb up back onto solid ground. Jeremy ignored the way his stomach swooped when, briefly, his foot hovered over empty air.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, gradually straightening up. “I can’t believe we’re gonna get out of here.”

“Me too,” Ryan admitted. He seemed to be loosening up a little already, his eyes wide with what seemed to be a mixture of excitement and nerves. Jeremy felt the same as he stood there, bouncing on the heels of his feet with barely contained energy.

There was no going back now.

They slipped out of a set of double doors, out into the pouring rain. Thunder rumbled overhead, rattling Jeremy down to his bones, but he couldn’t stop smiling. Sure, they weren’t out yet, but they were already so close that he could almost _taste_ freedom.

“You see that watchtower?” he asked, pointing across the sloping rooftops and open yards of the prison. It sat on the corner of the high wall surrounding all of the buildings. At the top, a floodlight slowly swept back and forth. “That’s where we’re going. It’s our ticket out of here.”

“Got it,” Ryan said, slowly turning on his heel to look around. His hair was already plastered to his head, flattened to a dark brown by the rain. Jeremy blinked as Ryan hit his arm to grab his attention. “Shit, Jeremy, look.”

Jeremy almost spat out a curse. Of _course_ there were guards patrolling out here. One was stationary, but the other wound a slow path across the flat roof to their left - the very same roof, in fact, that Ryan had crept over when he was smuggling the chisel down from the window sill several days ago. Well, at least this was familiar ground.

“I’ll take the guy up there,” Ryan murmured, gesturing up at the roof, “and you take him. I’ll meet you at the balcony.”

He couldn’t even be frustrated that Ryan was calling the shots all of a sudden, because it was the best plan they were going to get. Jeremy nodded, and he gave Ryan a gentle nudge towards the ladder as he crept towards his own guard.

It was simple enough to choke him out. Jeremy had plenty of practice at fighting - even more just in the last week alone - but he didn’t want to kill the guy. He might have been many things and been accused of much more, but he refused to be a cold blooded murderer. The moment the guard went limp, Jeremy lowered him to the ground and carried on towards the scaffolding. Ryan was already waiting above, and he reached down to grasp Jeremy’s hand and haul him up.

The only option they had from there was a window. Jeremy grimaced. “Gonna have to detour through the warden’s office.”

Ryan frowned. “How are we even supposed to get in there? Where would we _go_ from there, Jeremy?”

“Let’s find out.”

Jeremy grinned and, ignoring Ryan’s half formed protest, he slammed his elbow through the thin glass. He hissed as a few shards left shallow cuts behind, but otherwise dismissed the sting and Ryan’s hissed “Jesus, Jeremy” as he hopped through into the dry again.

It was warm and well lit - too comfortable, in fact. Jeremy immediately wanted to get back out into the rain. The walls were covered in thick, heavy books, proudly displayed on their shelves, and as they moved deeper into the prison again - they had to in order to get to the watchtower - they passed a few more desks in the next room, a little less grand but certainly still expensive. They were far too obvious as they crouched and crept through the beautiful rooms, leaving muddy boot prints on the shiny floors.

Down the stairs they went, past an actually working elevator that was filled with a couple of happily chatting guards. Jeremy’s shirt stuck to his back with damp and sweat as he ducked out into the infirmary corridor, already so familiar after sneaking around here just days ago. He led Ryan towards the office side, where they knocked out another couple of men with minimal fuss; they had been standing in front of an open window, taking a moment to smoke while they had little else to do. Jeremy stamped out their cigarettes before he hopped back out into the rain.

Relieved, Jeremy turned his face up to the rain for a second, basking in the cool wash of it over his face. Their evening was far from over, though, so when he heard Ryan drop down beside him, he continued on.

The watchtower was dead ahead now, but it also meant that they would be directly in its sights. Jeremy hugged the shadows, slipping closer to it while the floodlight was turned elsewhere; Ryan kept to his heels, and Jeremy had to admit that he was impressed with how well Ryan was doing with all of this. It made him curious to know a little more about him, though he wasn’t sure if he’d have the chance to ask.

At the bottom of the ladder, Ryan gently eased in front of him to head up first and dispatch the guard, and by the time Jeremy had made his wobbly way to the top Ryan had already found their escape route.

He offered Jeremy a coat hanger. Jeremy stared at him. “Why do I want that?”

Ryan pointed over their heads. Leading across the way they’d just come, there was a long, thick cable connected to a tower on the opposite side. If Jeremy looked hard enough through the rain, he could see that the thick cluster of the woods began right next to that roof. It would be an easy way to quickly vanish, hopefully before anybody noticed.

There was just the small matter of getting there from this high up. Jeremy swallowed hard. “No fucking way.”

“Do you _want_ to get out?” Ryan raised his eyebrows.

Jeremy’s stomach churned. “Well, _yeah,_ but-”

“But what?”

“Is that gonna hold?”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “I’ll go first. It’ll be fine, and if it happens to break, I’ll be on the other side to catch you, okay?”

He didn’t even have a chance to reply - which, admittedly, was probably for the best. Ryan turned away from him, hooked the hanger over the cable, and threw himself off the edge, zipping away into the darkness. Jeremy clung to the railing with his guts twisting; he could only pick Ryan out from the faded white of his shirt, and he tracked him with an oddly strong wave of fear for the other man.

It was completely unnecessary. Ryan landed safely, and he waved back at Jeremy to indicate that it was safe to cross.

Even so, it took a lot of courage for Jeremy to recklessly throw himself off from the relatively safety of the tower. His feet dangled in the open air, his heart leaped with a strange mixture of excitement and gut-wrenching fear-

He was only feet away from Ryan when there was a sickening groan of metal from behind him. The cable snapped, and Jeremy cried out as he desperately grabbed at it, his coat hanger tumbling away to the ground below. He slammed into the side of the building so hard that it winded him, and he fully expected to drop all the way to the ground. This was it, his worst fear finally biting him in the ass.

Something was stopping him from falling.

It was Ryan. Jeremy could feel the cable dipping as gravity tried to pull him down, but Ryan must have snatched at it before he could fall too far.

“Climb!” Ryan yelled, sounding strained.

Jeremy didn’t need telling twice. He planted his feet against the wall and pulled himself up, forcing himself to look up at the lip of the roof - if he looked down, Jeremy knew he’d lose his determination in an instant.

The moment he was within reach, Ryan flung down an arm to grasp him by the back of his shirt, and he helped pull Jeremy up the rest of the way. Alarms began to wail across the prison and light suddenly flooded across the yard, but Jeremy took a breather on the hard tarmac, trembling after coming so close to the death he feared most. He knew they needed to keep going, that he needed to get up and _go,_ but he was so thoroughly _shaken._

“Come on!” Ryan cried, reaching down to grab Jeremy’s arm again.

He hauled Jeremy to his feet and he kept a tight hold on his wrist as they dropped down onto the dirt path, flinging themselves out into the surrounding woods. If it hadn’t been for Ryan, Jeremy knew his weak legs would’ve caused him to slip and fall, sure to succumb to the hounds he could hear barking in the distance now, but Ryan made him keep going. Together, they were swallowed up by the darkness and the rain, and as they drew further away, Jeremy lost the sirens and gunfire under the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears.

* * *

Jeremy squinted up into the bright sunlight, shielding his eyes as he looked out across the sprawling forest. His whole body ached with the effort of walking all night, and his feet hurt so much that he just wanted to sit down, but he knew that if he stopped moving, he probably wouldn’t get up again.

As he climbed over a fallen log, a little pool of water revealed itself from the undergrowth, the water glittering with the tempting flash of fish. To his amazement, there was even the remains of a campfire on the other side. His stomach growled at the promise of food.

“Look, Ryan,” he said, pointing. “We could catch a couple of fish, cook ‘em up. It’ll be better than nothing. I don’t know about you, but I’m fucking starving.”

Ryan came out onto the pebbly shore much more gracefully than Jeremy had, and he covered his eyes to peer across the water. He looked doubtful. “I don’t know. What if whoever made that is still around?”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow at him. “Then we’ll scare ‘em off. Come on, we’ve been going for hours, we’re gonna be in trouble if we don’t eat something.”

He watched as Ryan’s shoulders drooped a little, his hand straying to his own stomach. “You’re right,” Ryan sighed, nodding. “Don’t know how we’re gonna catch any fish, but maybe there’ll be some leftovers or something.”

They waded across the river, the fish darting away from the movement, and were left with disappointment and wet trouser legs. While there wasn’t anything already cooked, Jeremy did spot a knife, stuck blade down in a tree stump, next to a few long sticks. Ryan parted from him to collect firewood, and Jeremy took the opportunity to finally take the weight off of his feet with a groan. For a moment, he forgot what he actually intended to do because of the sheer relief. Even now that he was on the ground, his muscles screamed at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Jeremy gave himself a moment to recover, and then he took up a couple of the sticks, grabbed the knife, and started whittling the ends down to ragged, sharp points. The spears weren’t pretty, but they’d do. After a few unsuccessful stabs and plenty of cursing, he and Ryan returned to the now crackling campfire with their prizes, and they sat opposite each other to cook and eat.

Quiet fell over them as they ate. Jeremy took in the view again, his gaze drifting to the hills that rose and fell in the distance. The prison almost seemed like a long faded memory, like it had just been a bad dream after all.

Well, except for the food.

He tossed away the remains of his fish, wrinkling his nose. “That wasn’t as good as I thought it’d be.”

Ryan sent his sailing after Jeremy’s. There was a quiet thump as it landed in a bush. “It is what it is,” he sighed, leaning back on his hands.

“I guess.” Jeremy still pulled a face as the taste lingered in his mouth. Maybe he’d risk drinking some of the river water before they continued; he was thirsty too, so while it might not be a _full_ win-win, it’d probably get the job done. “Man, and my feet hurt. What about yours?”

“Nah,” Ryan replied easily, just shrugging a shoulder, “mine are okay.”

Jeremy raised his head, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth as if he could chase away the fish. “Huh,” he said simply. He couldn’t tell if Ryan was just acting tough or whether he was genuinely fine. Maybe he was used to spending a lot of time on his feet.

As he sat up a little straighter, Jeremy realised how little he knew about Ryan. Now was as good a time as any to ask, right?

“What are you in for, by the way?”

Ryan laughed quietly. “Typical question, huh?”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Whatever, I’m curious. We don’t know much about each other, thought I’d make conversation.”

“Fair point.” The smile quickly slipped off of Ryan’s lips, and his gaze shifted to stare out across the valley before them. A shadow passed over his features as he dipped into what memories must’ve been suppressed before. Ryan exhaled again.

It only made Jeremy lean in closer.

“I’m in for something I didn’t do,” Ryan admitted.

“Yeah, and I’m innocent too,” Jeremy shot back jokingly.

It made Ryan chuckle again. He glanced Jeremy’s way, and he was surprised to see genuine amusement there. “I’m sure you are, Jeremy.”

Well, he wouldn’t have been caught if it hadn’t been for a certain someone. As peaceful as the landscape was, the beauty of it fell away now as a familiar anger bubbled up in his chest. This time, it was Jeremy’s turn to look away, his teeth gritted. “Wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for Martin, that piece of shit. He’s gonna get what’s comin’ to him.”

The quiet creak of clothing made Jeremy look at Ryan again. He was leaning forwards too, staring at Jeremy over the dying embers of the fire, with the same burning curiosity that he himself felt for his partner here. “So, let’s go after him together. Two’s better than one, right?”

Something gave Jeremy pause, tempering the desire he felt to hunt down the man who’d put him in prison. He sat up a little straighter as he stared Ryan down. He still couldn’t read him, and it was starting to be frustrating. “What’s your problem with Martin? I gotta know if I’m gonna be able to trust you here.”

Ryan broke away from the staring contest with another sigh. He looked down at his feet, his knee bouncing. “Fine,” he said, nodding at the dirt. “I was just a regular guy. Worked as a banker. One day, my brother brought in a new client: Martin. Said he had a proposition for me.”

Jeremy cocked his head. “Money laundering?”

Again, Ryan nodded, but he avoided his gaze. “It was easy money, but Martin kept coming back and it… it was too much. I couldn’t handle it, said I wanted out.”

There was a pause as Ryan’s hands curled into fists. They gripped each other so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “He killed my brother as a warning,” Ryan growled, “and he pinned it all on me. That motherfucker got away, and I was convicted for the murder of my own brother.”

“Holy shit.” Jeremy leaned back, blinking. No wonder Ryan was so determined to go after Martin. “That’s fucking rough. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

Jeremy went silent, giving Ryan the time to recover himself. He wasn’t sure where to take the conversation from there anyway - how did one move on from _that_ bombshell?

He was spared the awkwardness by Ryan taking a deep breath and raising his head again, that calm mask back in place once more.

“So, what’s your story with Martin?” he asked.

“Oh, he fucked me over real good,” Jeremy huffed. “We were… wait, do you hear that?”

He trailed off, casting around as he heard a low _thud, thud, thud._ Jeremy pushed himself back up onto his feet despite the protest of his muscles, scanning the sky with wide eyes. In the distance, the shape of a helicopter formed, eating up the ground that had taken them hours to traverse. It was almost enough to break Jeremy’s spirit, but mostly it just made him want to run for the hills.

“They’re closing in,” Ryan said, sighing. He stood up as well, already following the footpath back into the trees. “We’ve gotta move.”

Jeremy waved him off, grunting with the first painful step. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

* * *

A mere few hours later found them in a police chase. Sirens whined as vehicles sped after them, the poor truck barely pulling ahead as Ryan desperately spinned the wheel, squealing across roads and crashing through undergrowth when he took shortcuts across country lanes. Jeremy hung out the back of the truck bed, shotgun in hand, firing with fierce yells as he sent car after car off the road.

They hadn’t _meant_ to end up here. They’d only wanted to change clothes, so when they had happened across a farmhouse, they had sent the elderly couple running after their escaping livestock so they could sneak inside. All the time, they had bantered back and forth as they made themselves at home; it was nice to realise how far their friendship had come in only a week.

“So, you used to work in a bank? Makes sense.”

“What’re you implying?” Ryan had asked suspiciously.

Jeremy had grinned at him. “I mean, you’re kinda uptight, aren’t you?”

“I’m not uptight.” At least Ryan had looked amused instead of deeply offended; it was good to know what boundaries Jeremy could push when he was teasing him, because he was certainly the joking kind. It would be boring to be serious all the time. “I’d rather be in control than a loose cannon like you,” Ryan had continued, poking fun in return.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. It’s more fun to be free.”

Then, not long after they had both changed their clothing, Jeremy had laughed and added, “I just realised that you’re the only banker I’ve met without a gun in my hand.”

“Look at you, you’re making progress,” Ryan had shot back, only to be met with a playful shove.

After, clad in clean, fresh clothes, they had headed out front to quickly fix up what seemed to be a long abandoned truck. It would be much faster than walking, and it also had the added benefit of giving their feet a rest, much to Jeremy’s relief.

The only problem was that the elderly couple had returned, and the old man had emerged from the house with a pistol. His wife had called the police, and now they were on the run once more, desperately driving and shooting in an attempt to find even a window of an opportunity for a getaway. Ryan was trying his hardest to keep the truck relatively steady even as he swerved across roads; Jeremy knew he was a good shot, but it was still made more difficult when the cops were onto him, watching where he aimed his gun and correcting themselves accordingly.

“Roadblock!” Ryan yelled, and seconds later the truck skidded with a squeak of its old brakes as Ryan forced it onto a dirt track.

The heavy shudder nearly threw Jeremy out of the back. He yelped and seized the side as the truck bed rattled dangerously, the end threatening to pop open every time the wheels slammed back onto the ground again. As old as it was, though, the truck was made for being offroad, and they managed to gain a little bit of a lead as the cops were forced to take things a little steadier.

It was terrifying, but after six long months of prison it was so _freeing._

The truck shuddered as Ryan threw them back out onto the road once more, leaving the cop cars to find their own way back onto tarmac. Jeremy was confident that Ryan would use everything he could to his advantage here, that he’d get them somewhere safe so they could continue on foot again; they would have had to to abandon the truck at some point, even if they hadn’t been discovered so quickly.

He trusted Ryan though, and Jeremy let himself enjoy this moment, whooping as he sent another vehicle careening off the side of the road. Even when they inevitably ran out of tarmac again and Jeremy smacked his hip against the side of the truck bed, he ignored the pain to cheer as cops soared past them, surprised at the sudden turn.

“Nice one!” Jeremy called over his shoulder.

“Thanks!” Ryan laughed. “Think we’ll be able to- _shit!”_

Jeremy held on tight as Ryan screamed around the corner back onto the road and slammed on the brakes, but it was no use: there were spikes laid out in front of them now, cops waiting on either side with their guns drawn.

The moment the tyres ran over the spikes, the truck was done for. It spiralled out of control, tumbling down the ridge and towards the river, jerking and crunching as it hit rocks on the way. Jeremy barely had time to sling the shotgun back over his shoulder on its strap to give himself two hands to hold on with; he very nearly fell out when the truck was suddenly still, wedged in place between two big boulders. He didn’t think he’d taken any serious hits, but it had still made him _ache,_ and his teeth chattered with fear.

He threw himself out of the truck bed and Ryan staggered out of the cab, looking dazed. Jeremy grabbed his arm. “Come on!”

The cops hadn’t seen them yet; Jeremy could hear them shouting, passing instructions back and forth as they picked their way down the treacherous, rocky hillside. All Jeremy could see in front of them as they ran was a river, cutting swiftly across them and no doubt leaving them cornered, but it was too steep to climb up onto the bridge, and they sure as hell couldn’t go _back-_

“Grab that boat!” Jeremy hissed, pulling Ryan hurriedly along the riverbank. Like the truck, it looked old and a little beaten up, but a quick glance promised that there _probably_ weren’t any holes in the wooden hull. It wasn’t like they had much of a choice either way.

The minute Jeremy felt the water start to tug at it, he hopped in and offered Ryan his hand. His friend leaped in after him, almost unbalancing as they set off.

Jeremy held his breath as they escaped. He so badly wanted to cry out his triumph, but he knew it would only draw attention. For once in his life, he sat silently, trembling all over from the adrenaline still coursing through his body. He was practically vibrating with the need to do something, so he picked up one of the oars from the bottom and started trying to steer them. The scrape of wood behind him let him know that Ryan was doing the same.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, pushing them away from an approaching rock. “I can’t _fucking_ believe that worked.”

“Me neither,” Ryan admitted. He sounded just as breathless, but Jeremy could pick up on the quiet laughter in his voice. “A rowboat. The cops were fooled by a _rowboat_.”

They were by no means safe yet, though. Ahead of them, the river dropped away, the water rushing in to form rapids. It would certainly carry them away quicker, but it came with the obvious added risks, and Jeremy wasn’t sure that their boat could take much stress; the rotted frame shivered as they were swept along, creaking ominously like it threatened to give out at any moment.

“Don’t think we can stay on here long,” Ryan shouted behind him. The rush of the water was loud enough to make them raise their voices now, and it only grew into a deeper rumbling roar as they approached the dips of the rapids.

As Jeremy swept his oar through the water again, already sweating through his new clothes with the effort of keeping them on track, he scanned the banks for a way off. It would be difficult with the river trying to steal them away and send them crashing into the rocks and water; they would likely have to just leap for it. The mere thought of it made Jeremy’s stomach churn. The idea was made even worse with the way the boat jerked back and forth, gaining speed the longer they stayed on the water.

Jeremy could only snatch glimpses of the riverbank amongst the sprays of water and high cliff faces surrounding them. It was terrifying, and more than once he and Ryan had to catch themselves with the oars. He wished he knew this area well enough to have a better idea of what was ahead, but judging by the way their boat was quivering and nearly spinning out of control, it probably wasn’t good.

He didn’t have long to wonder. Jeremy’s stomach dropped when he saw a waterfall ahead and heard the crashing of water far, far below. There was no way in hell they’d survive that.

Jeremy tossed his oar aside and he pointed to the bank. It was barely close enough. “There, Ryan! Just jump!”

The river naturally shoved them in that direction, so Jeremy used the momentum to throw himself onto the riverbank, rolling over to a stop a few feet away. He grunted at the impact on his already aching body, but pushed himself upright, a breathless laugh on his tongue as he turned to Ryan-

Except he wasn’t there.

The swirling water had whisked the boat away before Ryan had had a chance to leap. It was heading for the waterfall, and with only one person to try and control it the boat was already crumpling against the immovable rocks, planks of wood sailing away to disappear over the edge. Ryan held onto what remained, his eyes wide and terrified as he looked back - and then the boat stuck on a rock with a sickening crunch, and Ryan vanished from sight as he slipped from the suddenness of the stop.

For a moment, there was only silence, and Jeremy felt like he wanted to throw up. Desperate, he scrambled to his feet, sprinting towards where Ryan had fallen, promising himself that he was there, he was okay-

As Jeremy dropped down a ledge to get closer to Ryan, he gave a little cry of relief when he saw Ryan clinging to the remnants of the boat; Jeremy noticed how high up they were too, but Ryan needed him, so he forced himself to ignore the drop. Instead, he took up a white-knuckled grip on a thin tree trunk and leaned closer to the edge, holding out his hand for Ryan.

He was clinging to the remains of the boat, though it was quickly crumbling under the pressure of the rushing water; Jeremy’s stomach twisted as he saw splintered planks breaking away to disappear under the water’s surface, dipping and rolling as they were pulled down below. The boat shivered dangerously where it was lodged, and Jeremy knew that it wouldn’t be long until it slipped free or simply gave out altogether.

Ryan had already started to carefully move himself along it, desperately climbing towards solid ground. Relief mixed with the still very real fear on his face as he inched closer to Jeremy’s outstretched arm.

“Come on! Come on, Ryan!” Jeremy cried. “Grab my hand!”

“I’m trying!” Ryan yelled back, his voice lost under the roar of the water.

There wasn’t time to argue. Just as Ryan was within reaching distance, the boat groaned and began to buckle, jolting Ryan and making his hands slip.

Ryan kicked off from the rock under his feet, launching himself towards Jeremy’s outstretched arm. The boat was sent flying down the waterfall with the force of it; there was no safety net now, but Jeremy didn’t intend on missing.

For a terrifying moment, Ryan’s fingers nearly slid free of Jeremy’s and time seemed to slow as he hovered in the air.

Horrified, Jeremy lurched forwards and fisted his hand in the back of Ryan’s jacket to haul him upwards, dragging him up and over the lip of the cliff until they collapsed on the ground, side by side in the dirt. Jeremy didn’t even care about getting their new clothes muddy; he just rolled to the side to give Ryan more room, and he gasped as he tried to get enough air back in his lungs.

“Never again,” Jeremy huffed, “fucking- don’t do that again. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ryan panted. As Jeremy sat up, Ryan did too, propping himself up on trembling arms. “Fuck. We should get out of here.”

“Yeah.” Shakily, Jeremy got to his feet, and he turned to give Ryan a hand up too. He glanced down at the waterfall, shuddering when he saw the crumbled remains of the boat down there; planks and the oars were churned up by the rapids, and now they floated away downstream, slowing to an almost peaceful drift. It was horrifying to think how close Ryan had come to that.

His skin crawled, so he turned away. When Ryan was ready, his legs steadier now, they headed deeper into the trees again, still dripping with water.

* * *

The sun beat down on them as the day wore on, the trees thinning at last to give it more room to shine down on them. Jeremy shifted as his clothes dried on his back. It was a little uncomfortable to be honest, but there wasn’t much that could be done about it.

The view of a valley unfolded before them as they followed the path, the hill dropping away to their left to roll down towards a few buildings and, a little further on, a city. There were great stretches of open ground, seemingly endless with how far it went.

They paused, as if just to soak in the uninterrupted sunlight. Like this, the heat was actually quite pleasant instead of heavy and thick. A moment of respite was just what they’d needed, Jeremy thought, closing his eyes.

So what if they were exposed for a few seconds? Nobody would look up at the ridge and see them - and even if they did, there was no way they’d recognise them from this high up.

Ryan broke the silence, though his voice was soft. “So, Jeremy. What now?”

Jeremy opened his eyes again. Quietly, he sighed, and the momentary peace melted away. “If you’re talking about going after Martin, it won’t be easy, Ryan.”

“I know,” Ryan admitted. Jeremy glanced across at him; he too was looking out across the view in front of them, but there was a hardness to expression that wasn’t there mere seconds ago. “But I’m going after him, with you or without you.”

“You’ll end up dead,” Jeremy said simply.

“And I want him gone.” Ryan shifted his gaze to Jeremy, and now he could see the steel there, previously hidden in the intensity of his expression. “The world will be better off without him.”

It was a resounding statement, enough to shatter any remaining peace that they’d had from the view. Admittedly, though, it was something that Jeremy wholeheartedly agreed with; if he got his hands on Martin, that man would not survive the encounter. Rather than respond, though, Jeremy turned away again, drumming his fingers on his folded arm.

But Ryan just couldn’t leave it alone. Jeremy’s eyes shut again as he heard the crunch of a single footstep, one movement towards him. “What’s your story with Martin, anyway? I know you want him dead just as much as I do.”

Jeremy exhaled a heavy breath, half of it trailing off into a humourless laugh. It was only fair to share his side after Ryan had explained his, and Jeremy had known that it would be coming at some point, especially considering they were interrupted before. He just hadn’t wanted to relive it again.

“Before I got busted,” he began, “Martin and I worked together. We made a nice score, got a rare diamond out of it. It was the first time we got anything that expensive. We even had a buyer lined up.”

He could feel Ryan’s eyes on him, steady and intent. Jeremy opened his own but they remained unfocused as he thought back. He wanted to tell this story in the quickest, least painful way he possibly could. “That greedy fuck decided we weren’t playing by the rules, though. We met the buyer, got the cash, showed him the diamond - everything was fine. We were gonna make a lot of money, enough that we wouldn’t have to do anything for a long damn time.”

Just _thinking_ about it had hurt and anger bubbling up in Jeremy’s chest. He sucked in a quick breath before he continued. “Then that asshole shot our buyer, forced me to hand over the diamond, and he fucked off out of there.” Jeremy laughed, but it was bitter, humorless. He dug his fingers into the meat of his own arms to ground himself. “Next thing I know, I’m surrounded by cops and I’m headed to prison.”

“Shit,” Ryan breathed. He actually sounded hurt for him, and it was all the more reason to avoid meeting his gaze. Jeremy wasn’t sure what to do with such genuine sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

Jeremy shook his head with a snort. “Don’t be. Martin’s the one who’s gonna be sorry, and then I’m gone. I’m gonna live my life how I want to.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“Well…” Jeremy had had the chance to talk to the cops. He’d been interrogated, of course, after he was picked up, but he’d held his silence. It wasn’t out of any lingering loyalty to Martin - no, he’d wanted the chance to go after Martin himself, even if it seemed like nothing more than a fantasy. “He always had this fancy place in Mexico. I never saw it myself, but he talked about it back when we were working together.”

“Then let’s do it.”

Jeremy’s brain just about short circuited. “What? Are you seriously saying you wanna go after him?”

“I already told you,” Ryan said, raising an eyebrow. “With or without you, I’m going after him. I’m just offering you the chance to do the same.”

It wouldn’t be easy, Jeremy knew that. He’d been close enough to Martin to know that he was building up a substantial following, and he definitely had the money tucked away to fund it; there was no way that he was unarmed or unprotected. It would be near suicidal for only the two of them to go up against Martin and his whole army, especially when he’d probably already heard about Jeremy’s escape from prison. He would be waiting for them.

Then again, Jeremy had been planning to get revenge anyway.

“We’re gonna need guns,” Jeremy said, “and a way to get to Mexico. I’ve got someone for weapons, but…”

“I can get us a flight,” Ryan promised. “I know someone, she’s trustworthy.”

Jeremy could have laughed. It was too real, too _easy_. He knew it wouldn’t be that simple when they landed, but right now…

Martin didn’t seem so untouchable.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that from here on out, there are _big_ spoilers for the game. If you're interested in it or the Let's Play Pals at all, I highly recommend finishing it first before you read this chapter!
> 
> The final chapter will be an epilogue.

A car slowly rolled into the gas station, and it parked somewhat haphazardly, though its nose pointed firmly at the nearest exit. There was little else along the road; it was the first real stop for miles.

In the front of the car, the two men in the car bowed their heads together and muttered briefly to each other. A gun passed from the driver to the passenger, and it was tucked away and out of sight, hidden under the flap of a brown jacket. They shared a nod before they slipped out of the car, looking almost too casual as they approached the station’s sliding double doors. On the way in, the sorter of the pair hung back to cast one last, wary glance across the parking lot before he followed his partner.

The inside was dull and poorly lit, and tinny music played from a speaker hidden in just one corner of the store. A quick look around confirmed that this place was far too expensive for the people who shopped there, but whether that meant there was more money behind the counter was debatable. Odds were, it would probably have the opposite effect, considering there were only a couple of customers lingering in the store. Neither of them looked convinced by the prices.

When one of them heard that there was somewhere cheaper down the road, he quickly left. The other refused to leave, even though she gave the nearest sign a distasteful look. It had been an attempt to minimise fuss and risk, to prevent anyone from trying to be a hero when it wouldn’t end well.

The pair only lingered for a few minutes before the taller man approached the counter. The skinny teen behind it looked up from a magazine, boredom written all over his face. “Can I help you, sir?”

Silent at first, the man pulled the gun from the waistband of his jeans. He laid it on the counter, his finger curled around the trigger and the muzzle pointing at the cashier; for now, his body blocked the view of it from the lone customer in the store. There was no need to start this off in a chaotic way. “Now,” he said, voice low and calm, “I don’t wanna cause a scene. Nobody has to get hurt. Just give me the money from the register.”

He felt a little sympathy when the teen started to tremble. “C’mon, man, it’s not worth your time. There’s nothin’ in there.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he replied smoothly. “Open it up.”

The register let out a cheerful ping as the cashier popped it open. He scooped up the loose change and tossed onto the counter, the coins bouncing and rolling for a moment before settling. “See? Nothing, I swear.”

Briefly, the man leaned forwards to scrutinise the tray. The cashier wasn’t lying; he could only see a handful of pennies sitting in the bottom.

He curled his fingers around the gun a little more securely as his gaze flicked to a door behind the counter. “There must be a safe around here. In the back, maybe?”

Trembling, the teen shook his head. He kept shooting nervous glances at the gun, though it still remained on its side. The safety was on too - though he wasn’t sure if the cashier knew enough about guns to recognise that. “N-no, there’s no safe, I- _please-”_

“Jeremy,” he called, “you’ll wanna check the back for a safe.”

His partner had been circling the store, keeping the one customer in check. She wasn’t really anything to worry about, though; even if she did manage to escape, neither of them were about to lose their cool because of it. By the time the cops arrived, they would be long gone anyway, with or without the money. If they failed, there was always another gas station they could hit.

“On it, Ryan,” Jeremy confirmed, striding over to the office. Quietly, Ryan snorted when Jeremy just walked right in. It hadn’t even been locked.

“See anything?”

Jeremy’s voice rang out clearly over the shitty music. It was almost comical how it still played in the background. “Yep, found it. It’s locked, though.”

“I’ll let that one lie slide,” Ryan sighed. He turned his gaze back to the cashier again, raising an eyebrow. “Combination?”

“C’mon, man, I’m gonna get in trouble-”

“You’ll be in worse trouble if you don’t tell us the combination.”

It was clear that he was only putting up a fight for the one security camera opposite his counter; there was no way the guy had enough loyalty to this place to actually try to defend it with his life. Ryan had to give him credit for even doing that much, but it wasn’t going to stop him from getting his way here. He and Jeremy needed that money more than this chain did.

Eventually, with a sigh, the teen muttered the three numbers they needed, and Ryan relayed it back to Jeremy. Within seconds, Jeremy was back at his side with a bundle of cash in his hands, and they quickly made their exit. The moment they were outside, the store alarm started ringing behind them, and they broke into a sprint.

As they sped away minutes later in the car, police sirens began to whoop in the distance as they pulled up far too late.

Ryan felt a twinge of regret.

* * *

The money truly was important, though. They’d been living on the little they could scrounge up ever since they’d escaped prison, barely managing to get enough food to live on and enough gas to fill their stolen car. Luckily enough, that car had had the one pistol tucked into the glovebox, complete with ammo - it made Ryan click his tongue with disapproval to see it so casually left there, but he couldn’t exactly complain when it had given them the tools necessary to pull off the robbery. In the end, he couldn’t ignore how nice it was to have a way to defend themselves, and it was good to have a little extra spending money in their pockets, though that wasn’t the goal for the majority of their cash.

No, most of that was going towards one thing only: arming themselves to go after Martin. All they’d had to work with before was their fists, and they were lucky that hadn’t had a reason to get into a brawl yet. Ryan had been wary of actually using the pistol they’d found, though, both because they had limited ammo and because he didn’t really want to hurt anyone. He’d only allowed it for the gas station because it was necessary.

Given his time dabbling in the criminal lifestyle, though, Jeremy had his contacts. Once the heat was off their backs, they stopped so Jeremy could get some change and use a payphone to call one of them - he was a good guy, he promised Ryan, someone reliable who would give them what they wanted and wouldn’t rat them out. According to Jeremy, he’d helped this guy out of a tight spot before too, so he was hoping he could cash in that favour here, too.

Ryan didn’t know anything about Jeremy’s contact aside from what he’d been told, though, so he didn’t have a clue what to expect. Admittedly, Ryan hadn’t asked much before they’d arrived anyway; Jeremy was coming to trust him now, was willing to fly out to Mexico with him to chase Martin, and he didn’t want to endanger that by questioning him. Besides, Ryan trusted Jeremy too - his judgement, while a little more rash, hadn’t failed them yet - so he sat back in the passenger seat and let Jeremy drive them there.

The meeting location would have seemed almost sort of beautiful at any other time, if a little lonely. It was far out from any city - Ryan and Jeremy had skirted around big pockets of civilisation, fearing that they’d be recognised - and as evening drew in, the sun cast a warm orange glow on the abandoned, slowly breaking warehouses. Pieces of corrugated iron had slipped to lean against the walls instead, covering up the occasional hole in the cement. Behind it, there stretched miles of sandy ground and hillsides, making this area seem a little less like a blemish and more hauntingly pretty.

There was a car already waiting there, and a figure leaning against the trunk as they pulled up next to it. He watched them, his expression neutral and somewhat calculating as he took in the sight of the pair of them.

Jeremy, however, was already smiling as they climbed out. Ryan hung back, a little more cautious as Jeremy rushed forwards to shake hands and greet the guy warmly. It was like they were old friends - and, well, Jeremy _had_ said that they shared some history, so it wasn’t too surprising to see a nice reunion like this.

“Alfredo,” Jeremy said, grinning.

“Jeremy,” his friend replied, grinning and tugging him in for a quick hug. “It’s so nice to see you, man.”

The smile faded somewhat, though, as his gaze game to rest on Ryan over his shoulder. His stare fixed on him, as if trying to read him. Ryan could only hope that he remained as impassive as ever. It made him uncomfortable to have a total stranger peer into his soul so intently. “Who’s this?”

“Relax, ‘Fredo.” Jeremy raised a placating hand as they broke apart. As he turned to include Ryan too, he gestured between himself and Ryan, adding, “He’s with me.”

Ryan gladly lingered behind Jeremy, trying to appear as non-threatening as he could. As nice as Alfredo seemed at first glance, it was clear that one wrong move here would spoil their chances. It was better to let Jeremy handle things.

It was made a little harder when Alfredo stepped closer, moving up next to Jeremy so he could size Ryan up better; as he glanced Ryan up and down, Alfredo raised an eyebrow, and he made a soft ‘huh’ noise to himself. It was hard not to shift under his suspicious gaze, but Ryan stayed still and firm, holding his gaze.

“So, he’s with you?” Alfredo asked, shooting a look at Jeremy.

“Yeah, he is.” Jeremy frowned. “Alfredo, relax. Come on, man.”

“I’m Ryan,” Ryan supplied helpfully, his tone neutral as Alfredo casually strolled closer. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Well, hi, Ryan.” Alfredo offered him a sunny smile. Ryan didn’t trust it for a second. “Nice to meet you, too. Thanks for helping my buddy Jeremy out of prison and everything. I read about that in the paper, it was wild.”

Ryan could only blink in surprise, and he opened his mouth to assure Alfredo that it was all Jeremy’s idea, but the words died on his tongue. Despite the almost cheerful conversation, the pleasant expression on Alfredo’s face dropped within seconds, and he shot a glare at Jeremy. “Speaking of you, why the _fuck_ did you bring him? I told you I’m not dealing with strangers. I’m not putting myself at risk here, I’m only dealing with people I know. You _know_ how I work!”

Ryan felt his blood boil a little as Alfredo turned his anger on Jeremy. That wasn’t fair, not at all - Jeremy was just trying his best here to get them armed and prepared, not get Alfredo into trouble. It wasn’t like he and Jeremy were trailing cops behind them anyway, and Alfredo might not trust him but Ryan had no intention of handing him over.

Surely he could calm this situation down somehow, or at least draw Alfredo’s frustration onto himself.

“Do you have a problem with me?” Ryan asked, calm and collected.

“With you specifically? Nah.”

But as he spoke, Alfredo reached behind him, and Ryan’s heart almost stopped at the sound of a familiar click. The muzzle of a gun hovered in front of his face, steady in a confident hand. “But I don’t know you, and I’ve gotta look after myself.”

“Woah, Alfredo!” Jeremy gently stepped between them, a hand coming up to press against Alfredo’s wrist - though it didn’t budge just yet. “Put the gun down! Come on!”

There was a tense moment where Ryan was convinced that Alfredo was going to pull the trigger anyway and be done with it - but then Alfredo raised his hands, clicked the safety back on, and tucked the gun away again. The moment that it was away, Ryan felt like he could breathe; he exchanged a confused glance with Jeremy as Alfredo wordlessly turned away, but he could only shrug helplessly in return.

Alfredo strode to the trunk of his car to pop it open. An array of weapons were laid out in the back, from assault rifles to shotguns to pistols, all neatly placed beside each other. Boxes of ammo lined the edges too, no doubt plenty for everything he stocked. Alfredo gestured towards it all and stepped back, his arms folded.

As they approached, Alfredo stuck out a hand to catch Jeremy’s shoulder and make him pause. Ryan stopped when his partner jerked back; he held himself back from bristling, though he found himself aching to defend Jeremy. That was enough to make him hesitate, so he almost missed what Alfredo said.

“This is the one fucking time I’m doing this for you, Jeremy,” he said sternly, lightly prodding his shoulder with a finger. “From now on, you come to me on your own. I’m not dealing with any more surprise guests. Sorry.”

“No more strangers, got it! No problem. Thanks, ‘Fredo!” Clearly, Jeremy wanted to play it cheerfully, so Ryan held his tongue. As Jeremy shrugged off Alfredo’s hand, he dug in his pocket to pull out a wad of cash. He counted out a healthy chunk of it and handed it over to Alfredo, adding, “That should be plenty. Should cover this and, y’know, any problems.”

Alfredo rolled his eyes as he pocketed the money. Ryan was pretty sure he could spot the ghost of an amused smile on his lips, though. “Just hurry up. I’m sure we’ve all got places to be.”

Together, Ryan and Jeremy crowded up against the trunk, leaning over it to peruse their options. Alfredo stepped away to give them some room, but Ryan couldn’t help noticing how he lingered nearby, no doubt watching over his merchandise while his customers picked through it - or, more accurately, to keep an eye on Ryan while he handled the guns.

As the sun set, they put together somewhat of a shooting range to try them out. It felt good to be put through his paces, to feel the familiar weight of a pistol in his hands - and to try something new, too.

Jeremy tossed empty beer bottles into the air and Ryan fired at them, sending glass cascading down in pretty glittering arcs. At first, it was merely to see how the gun felt, but then Jeremy started to change things up. He missed the timing of his throws on purpose and tried to curve his shots, all in an attempt to push Ryan. Admittedly, it took some getting used to, but soon enough Ryan felt thoroughly at home, and he even smiled as he straightened up again to reload.

In return, Ryan propped up some wooden planks to act as targets for Jeremy to unload into. His laughter bubbled up bright and delighted, echoing back at them from inside one of the crumbling warehouses. It put a smile on Ryan’s face to hear it; sure, he and Jeremy had joked around together on their travels, but it was a treat to see him opening up even more.

Even Alfredo cracked a smile as they said their goodbyes. It was more directed at Jeremy, admittedly, but it was still a relief to see that maybe Alfredo had warmed up to him a little bit. While Ryan didn’t exactly expect to see him again, it was nice to know that maybe he wasn’t so set against him now, that maybe he could see that he actually liked Jeremy. He truly didn’t have any ill intent towards Alfredo.

Jeremy hopped into the car first, still excited by his new purchase; as he settled in the driver’s seat, he twisted to set his gun down in the back and tuck it under one of the blankets they had. Before Ryan could climb in, though, Alfredo caught his arm and his attention, muttering a quiet, “Hey. One second.”

“Uh, okay?” He stepped back from the car and Alfredo let his hand drop. Ryan glanced warily at Jeremy’s still open door; it wouldn’t be long before he started asking about what they were doing, so this would have to be quick.

And yet, Alfredo was quiet for a moment as he too looked Jeremy’s way, his lips thinned. “Just… look out for him,” Alfredo said finally, his voice low to keep this just between the two of them. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but Jeremy must trust you a lot if he brought you here, so…”

Ryan swallowed hard to try and get rid of the lump in his throat. “I’ll try.”

* * *

There wasn’t time to find somewhere to rest, but that wasn’t anything new. Given their notoriety, it would be hard to walk into a motel and rent a room for the night, even if they paid extra in the hope that it might placate the owner. They weren’t foolish - they knew there was a bounty on their heads for any information about just a sighting.

Instead, in the weeks since their escape, they’d simply caught rest and food where they could. Now that they had the car there was, at least, somewhere relatively secure to spend the night. They just had to be careful.

Out here, where the world stretched out to show only dirt and dust and the occasional lonely building, Ryan wasn’t too worried. He and Jeremy were both comfortable enough to sit out in the open for once, perched on the hood as they ate a shitty dinner of whatever they could grab from the nearest gas station - one that they _hadn’t_ robbed, so they were welcome as long as they were quick with their purchases.

Ryan sipped his soda as he looked up at the sky. Night had truly set in now, and it painted a beautiful picture above them; stars had popped out, lighting up bright spots across the inky black canvas overhead. The moon hung heavy in the distance, granting them just enough light to see the bag by their feet. The only sound was that of their quiet eating, and the chirp of crickets here and there out in the darkness. It was a very welcome change of scenery after dull grey walls and metal bars.

Being on the run was strange, Ryan thought. He’d never imagined it would be like this. It was so oddly peaceful; he’d figured that the police would be constantly on their tail, and yet there was time to just sit and rest. There was no flash of blue and red lights, no sharp sound of sirens heading their way.

It was just… quiet.

And even when they talked, their voices were low and soft to match the world around them. Neither of them really wanted to break the silence much, so most conversation was brief, quiet comments that trailed off again soon after. It was, admittedly, incredibly comfortable, and it was a kind of atmosphere that Ryan hadn’t really had before.

After a while, Jeremy piped up again. “What’re you gonna do after?”

Drawn out of his thoughts, Ryan turned to Jeremy, blinking. “What?”

“After,” Jeremy repeated, tilting his head. “Once we’re done with Martin. Like… we’ll be done, we’ll have hit our goal, whatever. You will have _actually_ killed someone, and we’ll still be wanted men. We can’t just go home and act normal.”

Ryan licked his lips, chasing the sweetness of his soda as he lowered the can back to the ground. “I… don’t know, to be honest. The last six months of my life have kinda all led up to this moment. I haven’t really thought about after.”

“Fair enough.” There was a beat of silence, filled by the rustle of food packets, and then Jeremy continued. “You know, I was just kinda rambling before, about vanishing to live how I want to. That actually sounds pretty nice, though. Disappear, start over somewhere fresh, pick up a new name. That kinda shit.”

“You never struck me as the settling down type,” Ryan replied, chuckling warmly.

Jeremy huffed out a soft laugh of his own. “Yeah, well. Been thinkin’ about it. Can’t be on the run forever.”

“Don’t you have anyone waiting for you at home? Parents, siblings, a wife?”

Surprisingly, Jeremy’s cheeks coloured. He crumpled up the packaging in his hands and tossed it into the plastic bag at their feet, joining the other rubbish from the meal. “Nah. Parents haven’t been in my life for years, no brothers or sisters, and… if I was gonna settle down with someone, it wouldn’t be a wife, so.” Jeremy avoided his gaze, looking firmly out across the desert.

“Oh.” Ryan wasn’t entirely sure what to say at first, which part of that to address. It was clear though that Jeremy seemed to be expecting rejection, and that was the last thing Ryan wanted to imply.

Jeremy didn’t give him room to say anything, though. He just sucked in a breath and quickly moved on, as if he hoped that Ryan had missed the implications of what he’d said. “What about you?”

Ryan offered a weak chuckle. “Pretty much, uh, completely the same deal. Parents aren’t around much, you know about my brother, and no wife either. Wouldn’t want one.”

The silence felt a little awkward now, though Ryan wasn’t entirely sure what part had made the usually talkative Jeremy clam up so much. Maybe it was the suddenness of it, the similarity in their family backgrounds - or maybe it was something else, a thought that made Ryan’s heart leap up into his throat with the proximity of something he’d thought was out of his reach, especially as far as Jeremy was concerned.

As much as he thought about it, Ryan didn’t act, though. He reined himself in, reminding himself of where he was, what he was doing. It was entirely possible that he was reading things incorrectly here anyway, and they were so close to Martin now that he couldn’t risk jeopardising things with Jeremy. If Ryan got it wrong, it could ruin everything they’d worked for so far.

The thing was, he was right, and he hadn’t accounted for how impulsive Jeremy always was.

A warm hand cradled the back of his neck to tug him closer, down into a chaste kiss. At first, Ryan was still, his mind spinning with a dangerous cocktail of want, guilt, and reckless abandon, but he quickly relaxed under Jeremy’s touch. The thoughts and fears that had been plaguing his mind since they’d escaped vanished, chased away with each gentle press of Jeremy’s lips.

Everything seemed so far away, so much smaller. Just for a short while, everything else was blocked out as Ryan’s world focused in on Jeremy.

* * *

It was midday before they reached the hangar - where, this time, Ryan’s contact was waiting for them. He’d been here many times before, and he knew the pilot well, certainly enough to trust her with something like this. She was plenty skilled enough to get them in and out safely; Ryan literally trusted her with his life, and he knew that she wouldn’t mind Jeremy’s presence, too.

As they walked into the hangar, Ryan glanced around, looking for any sign of her. Her plane was pointing out of the giant double doors, but the woman herself was nowhere in sight.

He felt more than saw Jeremy shudder next to him. “What?” Ryan asked.

“Just…” Jeremy pulled a face. “I know we’re not in the air yet, but… Not a fan of heights.”

Ryan laughed disbelievingly, but not unkindly. “Are you kidding me? You’d gladly do everything else it takes to get to Martin, but that’s what gets to you?”

“Shut up,” Jeremy muttered, lightly elbowing him in the side. “I just don’t like ‘em. Never have.” In an obvious attempt to change the subject, he asked, “Where’s your friend?”

As he bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his amusement, Ryan decided to let it slide - for now, anyway. “Not sure. She’ll be around here somewhere, though, I-”

There was a loud clatter from the office on the left, followed by heated cursing. Seconds later, a woman stumbled out of the doorway, tools in hand; her bright red hair was tied back in a bun, though most of it was obscured anyway by the welding helmet she wore - presumably, she’d been making a few gentle touches to her aircraft to prepare for the journey. As she turned and spotted Ryan, a bright grin spread across her face, and to Ryan’s pleasant surprise he found himself tackled for a hug.

God, it felt so good to see such a happy, familiar face. Ryan held her tight for a moment, puffing out a quiet laugh into her shoulder. Lindsay always had such a way with making someone feel _good._

“Long time no see, Ryan!” When she stepped back, she was still beaming. “How’re you?”

“I’m good,” he assured her. He gestured towards his partner, adding, “Lindsay, this is Jeremy. Jeremy, Lindsay.”

Jeremy offered her his hand, and they shook. So far, Ryan was relieved to see that this meeting was going a lot better than the one with Alfredo. “Nice to meet you, Lindsay. Ryan’s said a lot of good things.”

“You, too! And, Ryan, come on, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Lindsay,” Ryan sighed, raising his eyebrows, “come on, you were basically born to fly.”

“Eh, I don’t know about that,” she laughed. It was a pleasant return to reality to see that she was as sunny as ever; their time apart hadn’t dulled their friendship at all, and they could slip right back into playful banter. Even as she turned to Ryan, businesslike now, there was still a welcoming warmth about her. “So,” she said, cocking her head, “you said on the phone that you wanted to fly out, but where are you guys heading?”

Ryan tucked his hands into his pockets and awkwardly rocked on his heels a little, looking already like a guilty child. He knew that he was already asking a lot here. Next to him, Jeremy was quiet for now, observing them and giving Ryan the room to do the talking. “Uh. Mexico,” he muttered.

Lindsay’s eyes widened. _“Mexico?_ Ryan, that’s way too far. You know my plane can’t handle that.”

“Please, Lindsay,” Ryan said, earnest and almost begging now. “We have money, I’ll pay you good.”

“More than good,” Jeremy added; evidently, his ability to hold himself back had only lasted a couple of seconds. “Double. We _need_ to get to Mexico.”

She sighed, biting her lip as she thought it over. Ryan stayed silent and simply watched her, willing her to agree - the sooner they got going, the sooner they could spring an attack on Martin. They couldn’t afford to linger when he’d probably found out about their escape weeks ago. He was probably already preparing.

Lindsay raised a hand, rubbing at her chin thoughtfully. “Double, huh? If it was anyone else I’d still say fuck no, but… for you, Ryan? Sure.”

Jeremy let out a heavy, relieved exhale. “Fuck, thank you, Lindsay. We’ll make sure you get what you’re owed, I promise.”

In an instant, she was back to smiling again. It was always easy to get along with Lindsay; already, he could tell that Jeremy was warming up to her, drawn in by her pleasant attitude. Truth be told, it was hard for anyone to really resist Lindsay’s charm. Some might view her as somewhat of a chaotic force, but Lindsay was good at what she did when she put her mind to it, and she always did it with a smile - it just depended on whether that was a kindhearted one or something more mischievous.

“I’ve known Ryan a long time, I trust him,” she replied with a shrug of her shoulder. “And if he trusts you, then we’re good! You guys head over there, I’m gonna grab a map so we can plan things out.”

Obediently, he and Jeremy went to stand over the table she’d pointed at, and Lindsay joined them moments later. Once she’d smoothed the map out across the table and they’d pointed out the area, Lindsay fell silent again, her eyes flicking back and forth as she looked it over. Ryan had always found it fascinating to watch her solve a problem; her solutions usually required a little more out-of-the-box style thinking. That too was part of her charm.

“Okay,” she said, clapping her hands together once. Jeremy jerked next to him, surprised, but settled again when Ryan bumped their arms together fondly. “If you wanna be boring, I can land us over here.” She tapped a nail lightly on the map. “It’d be safer, but you guys would have to spend a few hours walking to get to where you needed to go. Or…”

“Or?” Ryan prompted.

Lindsay’s smile sharpened with that playful edge he knew so well. “Or,” she said, “I can fly you over, and you guys can parachute down.”

“No,” Jeremy said immediately. “Nope. Not doing it.”

“Come on.” Ryan gently nudged him again, his eyebrows raised. “We’d save so much time. It’s not that hard, I promise.”

Jeremy licked his lips nervously, and he gave a tiny shake of his head. “Yeah, but… I’ve never done it before. I’ve never even _seen_ a parachute. And I hate heights!”

When Ryan laid a hand on his shoulder, Jeremy jerked again, but the tension quickly drained away seconds later. “You’ll be fine,” Ryan said, quiet and firm. “You just pull the cord, and then you glide down to solid ground. You’ll figure it out on the way down. I’ll be right there with you.”

For a long moment, Ryan thought that Jeremy was just going to shrug him off and tell them to forget it. To his surprise, though, he sighed, and eventually he reluctantly nodded. “Alright, fine. I guess it can’t be that hard.”

* * *

“Fuck you.”

“Aw, Jeremy, wait!”

“Nope! Fuck you, Ryan! I’m never leaving the ground again!”

Ryan struggled to stifle his laughter as Jeremy stalked away from him, shrugging his gun off of his shoulder and into his hands as he started up the dirt path. He dropped his parachute, leaving it to crumple behind him as he rushed to catch up with Jeremy.

The flight itself had been fine; Jeremy had assured Ryan himself that his fear wasn’t so bad when there was something solid under his feet, so he’d been completely fine as long as he didn’t look through the windows. They’d been able to talk and reminisce and laugh, and even fill Lindsay in on their adventures as she flew. All things considered, it had been one of the most entertaining flights Ryan had ever been on.

The parachuting, on the other hand, hadn’t been as smooth.

Maybe it had been a bit of a dick move to push Jeremy out of the plane first. While mostly amusing, Ryan’s thinking had been that he’d have time to react if Jeremy encountered any problems - which, in hindsight, had been a very smart idea. On the way down, Jeremy’s parachute had failed, slipping free and sending him tumbling to the ground before it had even had a chance to slow his fall.

For one heartstopping moment, Ryan had been frozen in his dive, too shocked to react and paralysed with guilt for even _joking_ about this, for putting Jeremy in this position in the first place.

He’d had to desperately turn towards Jeremy instead, willing himself to move quicker to reach him in time. When he was close enough, Jeremy had wrapped around him like an octopus, clinging to him and trembling as Ryan pulled his parachute to slow their descent. Ryan had bitten back laughter as Jeremy cursed up a storm all the way down; it took some coaxing to make him let go even when they were back on the ground again.

And now he’d stormed away up the path, the back of his neck and the tips of his ears flushed pink with embarrassment. Ryan rushed up to his side, his own gun settled in his arms now; as much as he wanted to joke around, he knew that they could be rushed at any moment. There was no telling how far out Martin had sent patrols when they had barely taken any time to research and prepare. From now on, they needed to be on their guard.

Except.

“Jeremy-”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Ryan.”

“Hey, I _helped_ you. I could’ve let you fall.”

Jeremy’s shoulders hunched, but as Ryan drew closer, he realised it wasn’t because he was annoyed. He was just incredibly flustered. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Shut up.” He paused for a beat. “Thanks for saving me, though. I didn’t mean to call you an asshole and stuff.”

This time, Ryan chuckled before he could stop it. He lightly patted Jeremy’s back through his body armour. “It’s fine, no harm done. Now come on, let’s go find Martin.”

They followed the dirt path that curved along the cliffside and into the undergrowth, trudging deeper into the shade. Ryan found himself energised from the glide down, though he was willing to bet that Jeremy didn’t share the same appreciation for the adrenaline rush. He tried to contain his energy, trap it so that it would fuel him.

Already, the sun beat hot and heavy down on them, and ducking under the trees didn’t help; it only made things more humid, and it left Ryan sweating under all of his protective gear. Ryan could feel his shirt clinging to his skin, and it was only made more uncomfortable with the knowledge that it would get worse once the fighting started. He walked on with Jeremy at his side, content to enjoy the peace while it lasted.

Ryan knew that it wouldn’t stay forever.

* * *

Each new crack of gunfire rattled Ryan down to his bones. He’d quickly lost track of time already as they fought through Martin’s defences - it must have been hours judging by the position of the sun - but it was still shocking to hear bullets whizzing past and embedding themselves in the wall behind them. The sun beat down hard overhead too, leaving Ryan sweaty and too hot under all of his protective clothing, but he was grateful for it; they had left many cocky men dead behind them. They had gone without bulletproof vests and they had paid the price for it.

Ryan and Jeremy had reached the outside of Martin’s grand mansion. On the lower half of the decking area, there was a pool, bright and glittering in the sun; it looked tantalisingly cool, and Ryan would have absolutely indulged if this had been anywhere else. Up on their half of the decking, Ryan was crouched behind a bar, the remains of various bottles crunching under his boots. Briefly, he had heard Jeremy lament the wasted alcohol, but he hadn’t had time to laugh at his joke.

He watched as Jeremy raised up and fired once, twice more in two quick bursts. There was a brief cry, and then the thump of a body hitting the ground. Then, cautiously, Ryan looked over the bar, scanning back and forth.

Everything was quiet.

He waited a few long seconds anyway, just in case there were any telltale sounds that would give away someone’s hiding spot, but there was nothing. He allowed himself to relax as he stood up, rolling his shoulders to work out the aches and pains he could start to feel as, for a moment, his heart and the adrenaline stopped pumping quite as hard.

Jeremy had already headed down to the poolside to investigate. Ryan followed him, lips parted as spotted a door in the wall. That would be their way in then, when they were ready.

“Clear,” Jeremy sighed, straightening up once he was done with his sweep. “Still no Martin here, though.”

“I’m not surprised. He’s probably inside.”

“Mm.”

Ryan watched as Jeremy swung his gaze warily back and forth. There was mud and blood smeared across the exposed skin of his cheeks and arms, and even though grim determination had replaced the sunny smile Ryan had come to adore over the past few weeks, he still thought that Jeremy was pretty damn beautiful. The fierceness, the desire to simply do _right_ that Jeremy emanated - well, that was something to admire, even in the middle of a fight for their lives.

Ryan tore his attention away from Jeremy reluctantly. “You wanna keep going?”

Jeremy sighed. “Yeah. Can’t wait too long or he’ll run.”

It hurt somewhat to leave the relatively peaceful moment behind - peaceful even with the bodies strewn about the place - especially when Ryan knew what chaos there still was to come.

Together, they rammed the door down with opposite shoulders; Ryan ignored the ache it left behind from similar motions throughout the day already. The doors slammed against their walls, echoing throughout the wide, open room with a bang - and then there was a second, much deeper and more worrying boom. As they dived behind furniture - glass display cases and tall stone columns - the floorboards splintered mere feet away, the sound lost beneath the heavy, bone-shaking explosion that caused it. Slowly, Ryan’s hearing came back, and he picked up on the rattle of gunfire as the smoke cleared.

Ryan felt his heart stop with sudden, gut-wrenching fear. Not only did Martin have his most loyal followers here to shoot them down, but the man himself was willing to break apart his own house to stop them.

They would have to play this very, very carefully.

There was a brief respite; the rain of bullets slowed to a stop, but Ryan quickly realised it was only so Martin could make himself heard. When he saw Jeremy tense and ready to move, he waved him back, and it was just in time. “You shouldn’t have come here!” Martin yelled, voice cracking with fury and fear. “You should’ve stayed to rot in prison!”

Crouched opposite him, Jeremy bared his teeth in a silent snarl. Ryan could almost feel the anger coming off of him in waves, but he could see now that Jeremy’s impulsivity was contained; he knew that his chance would come here or he’d die trying to get it, so there was no need to be frustrated by taking things steadily.

His eyes met Ryan’s, and he jerked his head towards the balcony. “We need to get closer. Gotta take out his guards first.”

He nodded, gladly falling back to accept orders. He trusted Jeremy. “On it.”

Ryan had more range than Jeremy, so he left the men on the same level as them to his partner. He knew Jeremy would make quick, clean work of them so long as he watched his back.

It was a little more difficult than Ryan had imagined it would be, though. Martin and his men had the high ground over them, and it forced them to be more careful with their movements. Each shot was risky; simply poking his head out to take aim nearly cost Ryan his life more than once when Martin immediately swerved his explosives in his direction.

But, one by one, the men ranged on the balcony dropped, and each one that fell gave Jeremy more freedom.

As the pressure let up, Jeremy moved quicker, striking like a predator. Ryan found himself grinning when Jeremy appeared closer to the stairs - somehow, he’d found his way over there, and he quickly dispatched one of the last shooters with a few sharp, dirty jabs of fists and elbows. He didn’t even _need_ his gun.

For a second, they made eye contact. Jeremy pointed his thumb up, indicating the balcony over his head. Martin was there, still firing; he’d lost sight of them for the moment, but it hadn’t stopped him from damaging his home further, destroying every bit of cover he could in an attempt to flush them out into the open. Ryan was just lucky that he hadn’t decided to shoot this way yet.

He understood what Jeremy wanted, though. He wanted a distraction so he could make his move. It was almost comical how easy it was to understand when he compared it to that time back in prison.

Ryan took a deep breath, and he leaned out from around one of the only remaining pillars. He couldn’t see much of Martin given how close he was, but he knew he’d be watching as Ryan pretended to aim. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jeremy dart up the stairs.

Before Martin could pull the trigger again, there was a cry, and then the sounds of a scuffle as he disappeared from view completely. Ryan immediately bolted, racing up after Jeremy, and he threw himself down to help secure him, letting his gun hang from its strap so he could use both hands to keep hold of him.

Even with the two of them holding him back, it was difficult. He fought hard, wrestling and throwing himself forwards in an attempt to escape Ryan’s grip; he only stilled when Jeremy pressed the muzzle of his gun against the small of his back.

“Enough,” Jeremy growled, “it’s over. Take us to the diamond, Martin.”

Martin’s lip had split, but he licked his lips and laughed breathlessly as he raised his hands in surrender. “How do you know I haven’t already sold it off, huh?”

“Because I know you, asshole.” Jeremy’s voice seethed with pure hatred. Martin jumped forwards as he jabbed him with the gun again. “Start walking, or I’m gonna start shooting.”

Ryan saw the distaste pass over Martin’s face, but he obeyed, leading them through to what seemed like some kind of office - though, in Ryan’s opinion, it was far too grand to be something that simple. There was a long wooden table surrounded by chairs spanning the length of it, and there was a wide glass window behind the head of it, offering the beautiful view of the sea. Paintings and more display cabinets containing priceless artefacts spoke of the wealth Martin had gained since he’d betrayed Jeremy.

Martin turned them away from that, from all of his finery in the room, and jerked his chin at a wall in the corner. “The safe’s there.”

“Then keep going,” Jeremy said. He pushed Martin forwards, hard enough that the man stumbled and shot a dirty look over his shoulder. Ryan stood back, watching Martin’s movements carefully and glancing towards the exits - there was no telling if that was all of his forces dealt with now. He wouldn’t be surprised if reinforcements were on their way.

Silently, Martin unlocked the safe and passed over the diamond. It was small, barely bigger than Jeremy’s palm; Jeremy tucked it into the front pocket of his vest too quickly for Ryan to catch a good look at it.

The momentary distraction was enough.

Martin planted a hand on Jeremy’s gun and shoved it aside; within seconds his arm was around Jeremy’s throat and the muzzle of a pistol was pressed up against his temple.

Ryan’s stomach swooped. Of course Martin would have prepared for something like this. He’d hidden a gun in the safe, right next to the diamond, just in case he ever found himself in this very situation. With one quick, unexpected move, he’d reversed the control here, and even when Ryan raised his gun he knew he didn’t have a clear shot - not without going through Jeremy, something that Ryan wasn’t willing to do.

“You motherfucker!” Jeremy spat. He reached up to grip Martin’s arm, but he didn’t attempt to rip it away. Ryan didn’t doubt that Jeremy would be dead in a second if he tried.

Ryan aimed steadily at chest height, his heart pounding as he tried to think quickly. “Let him go, Martin.”

“Put the fucking gun down or he dies,” Martin hissed back.

His hands trembled around the butt of his rifle, but Ryan steeled himself. For just a moment, he caught Jeremy’s eye again; like before, Jeremy subtly communicated what he wanted. This time, though, Ryan couldn’t indicate that he understood.

Jeremy would just have to trust him.

Slowly, Martin and Jeremy began to move right, and Ryan mirrored their movements to keep them in his line of sight. It moved them closer to another of Martin’s display cabinets, but Ryan didn’t much care for the contents of it. His attention was concentrated on one person.

“You know I’ll just fire if you kill him,” Ryan said, slow and measured. “You’ll die anyway.”

“Fuck you!”

Ryan knew he couldn’t reason with Martin. There was no way he could convince him to let go, even though he’d been the one to betray Jeremy, not the other way around.

It was just all about distracting him to give Jeremy the time he needed to inch his way over.

“You don’t have to do it like this,” Ryan continued. “There’s more graceful ways to bow out.”

Martin’s grip on Jeremy’s throat tightened; Jeremy gasped and bared his teeth as he craned away from the grip. “Shut the fuck up,” Martin snarled. “I _will_ shoot him. Get the fuck outta here, this is between me and-”

The moment they were close enough, Jeremy threw his full weight back into Martin, smashing him through the glass front of one of the cabinets. While he was recovering, Jeremy threw his elbow back into his chin to stun him further, and then he flung himself away and to the ground, ignoring the glass scattered across the floorboards. He scrambled, both trying to get to his feet and arm himself. “Ryan! Now!”

He didn’t need telling twice. The moment Jeremy was free, Ryan fired.

Martin jerked back against the jagged remains of the cabinet. The pistol slipped free from his fingers, skidding across the floor and coming to a stop several feet away. Its owner clutched the wound in his neck, as if to stop the flow of blood - but in a few moments, it didn’t matter anyway.

Jeremy had managed to stand, grasped his gun, and started to unload alongside Ryan. Martin collapsed back with the force of it, supported only by the remains of the wooden frame behind him. His white suit was quickly splotched with red, and soon he went limp and their guns merely clicked from their empty magazines.

Lowering his gun, Ryan exhaled a hard breath. He usually hated killing, but all of this today… Everything had been worth it. He swallowed and turned to Jeremy. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m okay.” Jeremy looked a little stunned. It took him a moment before he reloaded, but even then his actions were just methodical, mechanical. His gaze was a little unfocused, distantly fixed on Martin’s body.

Ryan raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

Jeremy blinked and gave a tiny shake of his head - not a no, but as if he was brushing off something. Eventually, he gave a single nod. “I… yeah. Shit. That was… fucking _terrifying._ I thought I was done for.”

“I wasn’t gonna let you die on me,” Ryan said. “Still got the diamond?”

“Right here,” he said, patting his chest. “It’s safe, don’t worry. Not letting it out of my sight now. Fucking thing’s caused enough trouble already.”

Jeremy let his hand drop again, and his gaze drifted back to Martin’s body and the pool of red steadily growing beneath its feet. Ryan decided it was high time to get out of there - he didn’t want Jeremy lingering over this and letting it get to him. The world truly was a better place without Martin in it, one way or another, and they both had the revenge they craved.

It was time to leave, to move on.

Ryan tried not to think about what was still to come.

Gently, he took Jeremy by hand and tugged him towards the door. “Come on. We’ve got a plane to catch.”

* * *

It was dark when they were nearing familiar ground again. Jeremy was curled up on a bench in the back of the plane, catching a little sleep where he could. It looked like an uncomfortable place to rest, Ryan couldn’t blame him for crashing; it had been an exhausting day, after all, but he knew that it wasn’t over yet.

Jeremy looked so peaceful while he was resting, even on the cramped, hard bench. Guilt hung heavily in Ryan’s stomach at the sight. He wanted to commit Jeremy’s features to memory, wanted to hear him laugh again just so he could savour the sound - but instead of waking him, he stood and headed up to the cockpit to join Lindsay.

When Ryan leaned in between the two front seats, she offered him a sad little smile. “You okay, Ryan?”

“I’m fine,” he said, too quickly.

Lindsay didn’t look convinced. He’d never been able to slip anything past her, but it wasn’t surprising that she’d picked up on his feelings here. Ryan was sure he’d been obvious from the first moment he’d stepped into her hangar. If anything, he was just lucky that she was flying so she couldn’t devote too much attention to him.

“You don’t look okay,” she said after a short pause.

Ryan let out a long, slow breath. “I’m not,” he admitted quietly, “but there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

He’d expected her to remind him that he knew what he was getting into here, that he’d made his bed and now he had to sleep in it. Instead, she looked sympathetic, and that made a world of difference to Ryan. “It’ll be over soon,” she said.

This hadn’t helped as much as he’d hoped. “Yeah,” Ryan sighed, looking away, out at the dark, cloudy sky. Lindsay was more perceptive than she seemed, but he wasn’t sure he could find any comfort here.

Their fates were sealed. They were heading towards something that Ryan didn’t want to be part of any more, and there was no way he could stop it now. All he could do was hang on and pray.

“Try and rest,” Lindsay suggested gently. “There’s still time before we land.”

Ryan retreated, but as he laid down, he knew that sleep wouldn’t come to him. He was definitely physically exhausted, yes and he desperately ached for the chance to close his eyes and pass out for a good few hours, if only it would come.

All he could feel, though, was swirling guilt, and it left him feeling sick and uneasy.

* * *

Night had truly set in by the time they arrived, bringing a low rumble of thunder and the beginnings of rain with it. A fog hung low and heavy across the airfield, but it didn’t quite obscure the flash of red and blue lights in the distance. As the plane rolled to a stop, the lights came closer, cutting through the gloom to form a loose semicircle by the doors.

It was over the moment they stepped out of the plane.

Slowly, Ryan raised his hands as he stared down the barrels of several guns pointed towards him and Jeremy. To his left, Lindsay stepped down from the cockpit to stand facing them, her expression unreadable. A few seconds later, Jeremy’s hands joined Ryan’s in the air, the shock slowing his reaction as he blinked through the rain at all of the cops. More cars pulled up, their brakes squealing as they stopped short of the plane and its passengers.

They were completely, utterly surrounded. After being in the dark back of the plane for several hours, Ryan squinted at all the light focused on them: floodlights, headlights, the bright flashes from on top of the police cars. It was dazzling.

A figure separated from the rest, and he called, “Stand down!”

He began to approach, making his steady way towards them through the pouring rain. The man’s face was one that Ryan knew well: he was familiar with the beard, the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Usually, Ryan saw a kindly smile there, but this wasn’t one of those times.

Behind him, the officers lowered their guns; they all knew that neither of them would dare to make a move now. As Ryan scanned the line of them, he picked out a few others that he recognised: Michael, Gavin, Geoff. He could feel their gazes on him, heavy and curious.

He avoided meeting their eyes, and he instead turned his attention back to the chief of police, the bearded man standing before him and Jeremy right now. Ryan watched as he spotted the bulge of Jeremy’s pocket and immediately gravitated towards it. The chief removed the coveted diamond from Jeremy’s care, considered it for a moment, and then tucked it safely away in an inside pocket. Jeremy didn’t move once during the interaction; his features remained neutral, unreadable, as he stared him down.

Then Jack turned towards Ryan, and he felt his world begin to crumble around him.

Ryan lowered his hands as Jack offered him a gun. He took it, albeit reluctantly. “Nice work, Ryan,” Jack said, nodding at him approvingly. “Perfect.”

Next to him, Jeremy began to lower his arms. Ryan couldn’t bear to look at him yet and see the realisation, so closed his eyes as he took a deep breath first. He wished that there was another way.

But, finally, after weeks, Ryan turned to look at his partner and he pointed the pistol at him.

Jeremy looked utterly heartbroken. His eyes were shining and his cheeks were hot, but worst of all was the deep, heart wrenching pain written all over his face as he slowly shook his head back and forth. “Ryan,” he whispered. “I-”

“I’m sorry, Jeremy,” Ryan said. The steadiness of his voice surprised him; he certainly didn’t feel in control right now. “You’re under arrest. It’s done.”

For a long moment, all Jeremy did was stare at him. With every second that passed, Ryan felt his heart shattering into smaller and smaller pieces.

He hated himself for letting this happen now, for bringing them to this point. There were so many other, less selfish ways to go after Martin, and Ryan had dragged Jeremy into it like this. He had forced them to this point where he had his gun aimed at Jeremy. Ryan couldn’t even bring himself to click off the safety. Why would he when he had no intention of pulling the trigger?

It was no surprise when Jeremy lunged at him with all the quiet fury of a panther. He let him take the gun and wind an arm around his shoulders to tug him back against his chest - he was Jeremy’s human shield now, and Ryan didn’t fight it.

Ryan simply let go. He knew he deserved this for everything he’d put Jeremy through.

“Nobody move!” Jeremy yelled. Ryan felt the hitch of his breath against his back; his heart swooped and he ached to take Jeremy into his arms to soothe that hurt, but he knew he’d lost his chance now. He’d ruined everything by not coming clean the moment their relationship changed.

Jack stepped back, raising his empty hands in an attempt to placate him. “Dooley, you’re only making it worse for yourself-”

 _“Shut up!”_ Ryan flinched at the sudden, sharp bang next to his ear - Jeremy had fired a warning shot into the air, and it sent the police moving back a few steps as they realised the very real danger of the situation. It was such a cruel reversal of the way Martin had held Jeremy hostage mere hours ago, Ryan thought, as Jeremy started to edge them over to one of the abandoned cop cars. There wasn’t anyone here to save Ryan as he had saved Jeremy.

“Jeremy,” he murmured, “take it easy-”

“Shut _up!”_ he repeated, his grip on Ryan’s neck tightening. It was already made difficult enough with the height difference, and Ryan gasped as Jeremy’s forearm pressed against his windpipe. “Not another _fucking_ word, Ryan. I don’t wanna hear it.”

The door was already open. Ryan bowed his head as Jeremy shoved him into the car, obediently scooting over to the passenger side so Jeremy could climb in after him. They were peeling away from the airstrip within seconds, sirens blaring from their car and others’ as Jeremy kept the gun trained on the side of Ryan’s head. He slumped into his seat, simply ready to accept his fate here.

It wasn’t long before Jeremy started talking. When Ryan dared to glance over, he saw wet, shiny tracks on his cheeks, mixed with the dampness of the rain. “I fucking trusted you, Ryan. I _trusted_ you.”

“I know.” Ryan closed his eyes, his heart clenching. “I know. I’m so, _so_ sorry, Jeremy.”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” Jeremy’s voice cracked with emotion. Ryan winced, curling his fingers tighter around the edge of the seat to hold on as the car swerved dangerously from Jeremy turning the corner to face a bridge. “I- I trusted you with _so_ fucking much, Ryan. And now-”

The tyres squealed as Jeremy rapidly tried to correct his path; halfway across, the police force had already set up a roadblock. They had worked fast, and Ryan wasn’t sure if he was grateful or not.

Rather than stop or go straight through, though, Jeremy chose another option entirely.

He turned them off the road completely, just before the bridge, and plunged them into trees and undergrowth. Ryan gasped as the car bounced hard; it wasn’t made for being offroad, and it showed quickly, rattling them both to the bone.

Jeremy vaguely followed the river, heading further inland where it opened up into a dock full of warehouses and cargo ships. The surface of the water broke with the fat drops of rain cascading down against it, and the great buildings loomed out of the darkness as they drew closer. Ryan caught glimpses of it all through the trees as they rushed by, and eventually they began to peter out, leaving them only with a rocky, muddy bank, and then the road again.

This time, there were no police in sight. Maybe Jeremy knew the area well enough to remember that there was another road that mirrored the first, but Ryan figured that it was more that he’d been lucky.

As Jeremy turned inwards, onto the second, smaller bridge across to the docks, Ryan reached up to seize Jeremy’s arm. He forced the gun away from his face, and then desperately tried to pry it from his hands - he didn’t want to hurt Jeremy, but _God,_ Ryan didn’t want to die either, even though he knew he deserved whatever Jeremy threw his way. He felt utterly worthless, but he still had that deep, instinctual desire to fight, to _live._

They struggled, and Jeremy fought to control the car too as he attempted yanked his arm away from Ryan. In the end, he had reckless abandon and heartbreak on his side here - enough of it to slow the car and throw himself out of it with a desperate cry, releasing the gun as if he could trade it for freedom.

“Jeremy!” Ryan yelled, lunging across as if he could stop him. To his relief, he simply saw Jeremy roll and get to his feet, unharmed, when he looked in the mirror.

He didn’t have time to linger, though, as much as he wanted to keep staring; he grabbed the wheel to stop the car entirely, self-preservation kicking in first and foremost. When he stumbled out on shaking legs moments later, for one heart-stopping moment he thought he’d lost track of Jeremy completely - and then he saw one of the warehouse doors swinging on its hinges as if it had been hurriedly shoved open.

Clutching the pistol - though certainly not intending to use it - Ryan rushed after him.

To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure why he kept up the chase. Now that he was free, he could just… walk away. He could turn away and find backup; he was sure that the rest of the police force wouldn’t be far behind them, ready and willing to follow him.

The thought of it turned Ryan’s stomach, though. He couldn’t do that to Jeremy.

He just wanted to explain himself.

As he took a few hesitant steps inside, Ryan heard the distant echo of running. Heavy footsteps clattered across a metal walkway, and Ryan found himself pulled towards the sound; he followed it up a set of stairs, chasing the blurry shape he could see behind the frosted glass opposite. Jeremy was here, no doubt trying to find a way out, a route away from _Ryan._

It hurt to know just how badly he’d fucked up, to know that he’d ruined things so thoroughly that he was now something that Jeremy hated and feared. Ryan never wanted to hear that pain in Jeremy’s voice again, but he did want to at least tell him his own version of events before Jeremy inevitably left him, one way or another. He knew that there would be no amicable resolution to this, not now. Ryan had lost that chance when he’d kept everything a secret.

Together, they burst out onto the rooftop, several feet apart. The rain was falling heavier now and it immediately soaked Ryan to the bone, plastering his hair to his head. He only raised the gun as if to feign the ability to defend himself, but Ryan knew that he would only do so much if Jeremy actually attacked him.

After everything, Ryan couldn’t bear to hurt him further if he could help it.

Jeremy stared at him, his shoulders heaving with his panting breaths. His eyes were rimmed with red as he watched him warily, his gaze flicking briefly to the gun in Ryan’s hands.

“Do it,” he growled, “fucking get it over with. Shoot me, arrest me, I don’t care.”

Ryan thought his heart had already been thoroughly broken tonight, but he quickly realised that there was more to come. His chest _ached,_ deeply and painfully, like there was something physically lodged there _._

“No,” Ryan breathed, shaking his head. “I’m not- Jeremy, I’m not doing that.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?” Jeremy gestured wildly at the rooftop under their feet, encompassing the vents and walls of brick that rose higher into the air. He raked his fingers through his short brown hair, sucking in another deep breath. Ryan noticed it catching, stuttering, with suppressed emotion. “I thought I made myself pretty fucking clear already. _Leave me alone.”_

The rain was loud in Ryan’s ears - or maybe it was just the rush of his own heart pumping so hard. “I wanted to tell you why I did what I did.”

Jeremy’s laugh was harsh and bitter, and it was as good as a slap in the face. “That’s not gonna fucking fix things, Ryan. You were _literally_ about to arrest me, after _everything_ we’ve been through.”

“I know it won’t fix things,” Ryan admitted. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I just want you to know why.”

“Then start fucking talking.”

For now, Jeremy was standing his ground, but the weeks of intimacy had led Ryan to pick up on the little things, and he was pretty sure he knew him well enough to predict his moves. He wouldn’t be surprised if Jeremy acted at some point - though whether that was to start fighting or run away remained to be seen. To be honest, Ryan wasn’t sure which idea he was worse.

“The man at your deal,” Ryan said, “the one you were selling the diamond to.”

“What about him?”

 _“That_ was my brother,” he said, airing at last the final bit of his motivation for everything. “That’s how I’m connected to all of this. I didn’t lie about Martin murdering him, Jeremy, that was true.”

Jeremy’s eyes flashed with anger again. “But you’re not a banker. You weren’t framed for his murder - you were planted, weren’t you? You knew from the _start_ that I worked with Martin.”

“Yeah.” Ryan nodded slowly, and as he did he couldn’t help thinking back to that conversation with Jack. It had been a battle to convince him to do this - he’d had good reason to deny Ryan at first, but he’d quickly realised how much Ryan needed some way to work through the guilt.

After all, he’d been the one to convince Cody to go through with it. The blame rested on Ryan’s shoulders for putting him in that position. He’d promised him he’d be safe, that they were right there in case anything went wrong - but it had all happened too quickly for Ryan and the other cops to do a damn thing.

For a long moment, the only sound was the pouring rain, bouncing off the tarmac of the roof. Jeremy looked away, working his jaw as he rolled something around in his head. Ryan didn’t dare interrupt.

“Was any of it real?”

Ryan blinked at him. “I- what do you-”

“Between us,” Jeremy clarified. He’d shifted his glare back to Ryan now. There was no trace of the soft warmth he’d seen in the lead up to their first flight, nothing left of the affection they’d shared, even when he finally phrased what had, until then, only been wordlessly acknowledged. “The kissing. That stuff. Was that real, or just you making sure I would take you to Martin?”

“It was real.” The words tripped coming off of his tongue in his haste, but Ryan didn’t care if he flubbed. He needed Jeremy to know that, at least. “Every part of that was real. I promise.”

Ryan couldn’t tell whether that helped or hurt Jeremy. He merely gave a single, firm nod - he simply accepted the information, but he wasn’t about to tell Ryan how he felt either way. As desperate as he was to know, Ryan wasn’t about to press him for that; he wasn’t foolish enough to assume he’d ever have any sort of future with Jeremy now, platonic or otherwise. All of that had been thrown out of the window the moment Ryan had pointed a gun at him.

What mattered most was showing Jeremy the whole picture. He could make his own decisions from there.

Eventually, Jeremy held his head high. He looked… _resigned_ almost. “So what happens now?” he asked. “You arrest me, and I go back to rotting in jail? And you get to just walk away, huh?”

“I can get your sentence reduced,” Ryan promised. His hands started to tremble a little where they held the gun, so he gripped it tighter, though he carefully kept his finger off of the trigger. “I can talk to Chief Pattillo, get him to vouch for you. We could lower it for your help.”

“From eight years to what? Six?” Jeremy scoffed.

Ryan wished he had a more definitive answer, but all he could do was shrug. “That’s up to the courts, not me.”

Jeremy shook his head as he smiled without humour. “Fuck that. I’d rather take a bullet than go back to fucking prison. If that’s all I have to look forward to you, you might as well kill me right fucking now, or someone else will on the inside.”

Faintly, Ryan could hear police sirens. Even now, when he was back on the right side of the law, Ryan’s heart still skipped a beat with sudden fear when he heard that familiar sound.

It was distant enough that there was still time, but there wasn’t much of it; soon enough, they’d arrive and start searching, and it wouldn’t be long until they found them. Jeremy would be dragged away in handcuffs in an instant, there was no question about that. Ryan certainly wasn’t going to fire at him either. There was no way out for him.

Well. There _was_ one option. And now that Ryan had figured it out, he intended to give it to him.

“You don’t have to go back to prison,” Ryan said.

Jeremy frowned at him, disbelief written all over his face. “What?”

Rather than explain, Ryan raised his hands: one splayed out to bare his empty palm in surrender, and the other pointed the gun up into the night sky. He took a single step back, moving towards the stairs he’d climbed, and he nodded towards the set behind Jeremy. “Go.”

Slowly, Jeremy’s folded arms uncurled from his chest. “I… Ryan, what are you talking about?”

“If you want to fight me, fight me,” Ryan said, his voice the more confident it had been all evening. Everything else had fallen apart around him, but he was sure of this. “I wouldn’t blame you. If you _want_ to get arrested, the cops are on their way. But if you don’t want to go back to prison, then _run._ I’ll cover for you. I won’t tell them which you went, and I won’t search for you. You can start fresh, like you said you wanted to.”

The hardness of Jeremy’s features began to crack, just a little, but Ryan forced himself to keep moving away. He’d already done enough to fuck up Jeremy’s life, and he wasn’t about to ruin things further.

“Ryan,” Jeremy breathed, looking stunned, “I don’t- Your boss, he’s gonna be _pissed-”_

“He’ll just be glad I got out alive.” He shrugged a shoulder, brushing away Jeremy’s concern. “He won’t read into it. There’ll be a search, but you’ll be fine if you keep moving, just like we did before.”

Jeremy took one tentative step towards him. “Ryan-”

Behind him, the whine of the sirens grew worryingly louder. Ryan dropped a hand to the railing, pulling himself away - away from Jeremy, away from the only person who had truly shown him what happiness felt like. Ryan sure as hell knew it wasn’t waiting for him back at his old life, not now.

 _“Go,_ Jeremy,” Ryan insisted. _“Run.”_

He permitted himself one look back.

The last he saw of Jeremy was his retreating back, his shoulders hunched against the rain, as he rushed down into the building and out of sight.

By the time Ryan reached the ground floor, he was gone.


	3. Epilogue

A lot could change in six months.

Ryan’s morning routine, however, was exactly the same. When he peered out of the curtains, blinking sleepily, a gloomy, rainy day greeted him. It was a familiar sight, so Ryan twitched the curtains shut again and retreated - though the alternative admittedly wasn’t much better. All that was waiting for him was his silent home, a cup of coffee, and whatever was in the mail today. It wasn’t exactly anything exciting.

Once he’d showered, Ryan made his slow way downstairs for breakfast. As always, it was a silent affair except for his chewing as he ate; he didn’t have the heart to turn on the radio and listen to the news.

He’d barely listened to it at all since the first week.

Their story had been all over the news: Dooley, the escaped criminal, had vanished again; Haywood, the undercover cop, had barely made it out with his life. The facts had been twisted in such a way that made Ryan feel physically sick - they’d made Jeremy out to be far more aggressive and dangerous than he really was, while Ryan had been elevated and hailed as a brave hero.

He hated it.

In the end, it had been better to just ignore it entirely and wait for something else to be picked up. Ryan just hadn’t bothered tuning in again even though he knew there would be another bigger story, and his would be long gone by now. It had been the same with newspapers, which Ryan had been forced to quickly flip through until his own face wasn’t staring up at him from the page.

Instead, almost like a self imposed punishment, he always sat there in silence. At first, it had been much more noticeable, especially in the absence of Jeremy’s laughter. Now, it was just part of Ryan’s day to day life.

Everything was just… routine now. Like washing his dishes once he was done eating, idly tidying the already clean house, and collecting the mail.

As he flipped through it, he bumped his door shut with his hip and wandered back into the living room. For the most part, it was uninteresting and expected: a bill here, some junk mail there, a random flyer for some event in the nearby park. He put the bills on the coffee table, but the things he didn’t need ended up torn in half and tossed in the trash one by one.

And then he reached the bottom of the pile.

There was a simple, unassuming, white envelope. His name and address were printed across it neatly, and while Ryan didn’t recognise the handwriting, something about it felt familiar.

Slowly, as Ryan sat down in his armchair, he opened the envelope to slide out the folded paper tucked inside. He smoothed it out across his knees, his fingers tracing the creases and crossed out words as he began to read.

Ryan had kept his promise: he hadn’t made any move to trace Jeremy. He’d stayed far away, convinced his colleagues and friends that Jeremy had simply let him go and fled. He had done everything in his power to throw the cops off of Jeremy’s scent to give him a decent head start on a new life. Given everything Ryan had put him through, he’d felt it was the least he could do to make up for it.

While Ryan had silently suffered through the quiet of his own existence, he’d hoped that Jeremy had found happiness elsewhere, that he was living as he’d wanted to all that time ago.

Not once had Ryan expected Jeremy to contact him. A small part of him had hoped that maybe they could communicate again one day, but it had been only that: hope. Ryan knew he’d fucked things up completely, so he’d never dared to dream that it could be reality.

And yet the evidence was right here, resting on his knees. On the back of the page, in the same hand, was an address and a time.

His gaze shifted to a page of his own handwriting on the coffee table. It was a resignation letter for the police force, mostly finished. Ryan had been pretty set on leaving anyway; he’d barely had the strength to tackle even the easiest of cases with the guilt that had weighed on him ever since the Martin situation. He wasn’t sure what the future held for him, but he hadn’t wanted to stick around in a job that made him hurt every time he walked into the station.

In the end, it was the easiest decision Ryan had ever made.

* * *

_Ryan,_

_I don’t know where to start. I don’t even know why I’m writing this and to be honest, I probably shouldn’t. You fucked me over before, so what’s to say you won’t do it again, right?_

_But I’ve had time to think about what happened. And yeah, I’m still pretty pissed, it’s kind of hard not to be,_ _~~but I can’t stop thinki~~ _ _but I appreciate what you did that night. It made me realise that you might still_ ~~_care_ ~~ _give a shit._

_I’m still angry about you lying - and I haven’t forgiven you for that part - but I get it. I probably would’ve done anything to get to Mexico, too._

_I miss_ ~~ _you_~~ ~~_what we had_~~ _f ~~uck~~_ _everything. I miss everything. We had so much fucking fun before we flew out, and I- God. Everything after that was just… fucked._

_I’ve been doing some thinking the last six months. I’ve had time to breathe and be angry and hurt, and then it gave me room to think. I can see things a little more objectively now and I just-_

_I want to see you, if that’s something you want, too._

_I promise there’s no trick here. I’m not trying to get you here to get revenge. I just wanna see you and talk. If you don’t show up, I’ll assume you didn’t want to, and that’s fine, too. I won’t chase you up again._

_But if you do want to talk, I’ll be there._

_Jeremy_

* * *

The place in question was somewhere he and Jeremy had been before: the rundown buildings where they’d bought guns from Alfredo.

That seemed like a lifetime away now, even as Ryan pulled up his car - his own, this time - in the same spot as before. The very same bottles that he and Jeremy had used as target practice still stood where they’d left them, toppled over or weathered by the elements from the months that had passed. At first glance, it was the only sign that they’d ever been here.

And then there was Jeremy himself, standing to the side and waiting with his arms crossed.

He looked different, of course. He was bald now, and his facial hair was different - all probably to throw people off, Ryan imagined. Jeremy was also dressed in what Ryan assumed to be his own clothes, because it certainly wasn’t the stolen set from the farmhouse. He looked pretty good, if Ryan was honest, and it reignited the longing he’d been trying to squash down for so long now.

Part of him did wonder if maybe he was making a mistake in coming here. Six months was a long time, and he’d known coming into this that it was likely to open up old wounds. There was no guarantee that anything good would come of this - it could just be for closure, and Ryan wasn’t about to deny Jeremy that. Hell, if that was all this was, it probably wouldn’t be a bad thing for Ryan either.

When Ryan climbed out of his car, though, Jeremy smiled. It wasn’t the full, bright smiles Ryan had seen before, but it was still warm enough. “Hey, Ryan,” he said softly. “Glad you came.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Ryan admitted. “You look… good. Really good.”

Jeremy chuckled quietly, his arms slowly unfolding. “Well, not being in prison will do that for you. You look good, too.”

Ryan wasn’t sure he agreed with that, but he shrugged and didn’t fight the compliment. “Thanks.” Idly, he tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels a little. He and Jeremy stood too far apart, but Ryan didn’t dare to cross that distance first. “So… what did you want to talk about?”

Surprisingly, Jeremy’s cheeks heated a little. He rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced away, silent for a moment as he tried to find the words he needed. “It… didn’t feel right to leave things how they were after everything we went through. I don’t know, I wanted to clear the air or... something.”

A question had been burning in Ryan’s chest all the way here - and it had taken a few days of travel, too. He searched Jeremy’s face but couldn’t find any hints there, so he decided to just… blurt it out.

“Why?”

Jeremy’s smile faded as he blinked at him. “Why what?”

“Why do you want to clear the air?” Ryan pressed. “I hurt you. I _betrayed_ you.” He shifted on his feet a little, his shoulders hunching as the memory of that night came back as clear as day. Even though he’d been so exhausted at the time, Ryan remembered it in painfully sharp detail. “I know I didn’t have to let you go, but I did it because I wanted to try to make things right. You didn’t wanna go to jail and I didn’t wanna shoot you, so I picked the third option. I never assumed you’d wanna see me again, though. I did it to be a decent person, to try and make things right - I figured you’d take it and stay way the fuck away from me.”

“Oh.” Jeremy rubbed the side of his arm a little awkwardly. “You know… to be honest, that made a difference. The, uh, the fact that you’d let me go after I dragged you through all that? That meant a lot to me, Ryan.”

There was a slight pink tinge to Jeremy’s cheeks - his embarrassed flush was adorable, Ryan thought - but Jeremy raised his head and continued. “I wanted to thank you for that, at least, in person if I could, so.” Jeremy shot him a shy smile. “Thanks.”

Something began to unfurl in Ryan’s chest. A tight knot, months and months of stress, gradually eased with each passing moment he stood here with Jeremy and saw his smile. He hadn’t even realised he’d been carrying it, but now he noticed it in its absence. Things certainly weren’t completely solved and Ryan doubted that things would just smooth out anyway, especially when they were delving into feelings and thoughts they hadn’t really touched for months.

“No problem,” Ryan said, managing to smile in return. He hadn’t been able to stand the thought of Jeremy locked up again; he wouldn’t have been able to sleep at night knowing he’d put him back there. It had been a simple decision to make really, even with the risk of getting in trouble with his superiors. It was worth it, though.

Jeremy was quiet for a moment, his bottom lip between his teeth - and then he nodded to himself and moved in closer to Ryan.

Before he knew it, he’d been tugged into a warm, firm hug.

Ryan’s arms immediately curled around his waist to hold him tight, settling into the dips he knew so well even from just that one time he’d been allowed to hold Jeremy so intimately. The last of that heavy tension he’d been carrying around dissipated in an instant, and Ryan slumped against Jeremy with pure relief.

“It hasn’t been the same without you around,” Jeremy muttered, his voice muffled against Ryan’s shoulder. “I fucking missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Ryan breathed.

He barely dared to speak or move. It felt like he’d pop the bubble they were wrapped up in if he did.

When Jeremy pulled back, he didn’t go far; his palms stayed pressed to Ryan’s sides. He looked up at him, and Ryan’s heart missed a beat in his chest at their proximity.

“Come get coffee with me?” Jeremy asked, some of that hesitance creeping back in. “Seems kinda dumb now to just meet in the middle of the desert like this. I don’t think we can talk through everything in one sitting like this either.”

“No, you’re right,” Ryan agreed, breathlessly laughing and feeling free for the first time in months. God, he hadn’t thought it was possible to feel this buoyant with joy again after the past year of his life had been filled with reasons to be sad instead. He wasn’t sure what kind of resolution this all held for him, but at this point Ryan was starting to feel like things were looking up. “Coffee works, yeah.”

“Come on, then. I know a pretty good place not too far.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows as he finally let go of Jeremy. “I don’t want to insult your disguise, but won’t they recognise you?”

Jeremy shot him a grin, and it was so like the ones he was most familiar with that, for a moment, Ryan’s heart stopped. “All we did was rob a gas station while we were on the run. Trust me, they don’t care that much.”

“You’re a wanted criminal, Jeremy.”

“It’s fine! You’ll see, they have _no_ idea.”

Ryan wasn’t so sure, but he was willing to trust him.

Laughing, they piled into Ryan’s car, and set off with Jeremy’s directions. Even with everything still hanging over them, it felt somewhat normal - or as close to normal as they’d ever had, considering the majority of their time had been spent with the threat of law enforcement over their heads. It made Ryan’s heart sing, even though he knew there was still a lot to discuss.

There was so much uncertainty ahead of them, but Ryan was hopeful that they could figure out this third option together.


End file.
